


Semper Cum Scuto (Always With The Shield)

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brad Colbert is the Iceman, M/M, Marvel Adventures: Avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generation Kill fusion fic with Marvel Comics (X-Men, Avengers, Defenders, Iron Man and others). Someone had to finally write Brad as Iceman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **all Latin translations are at the end of the relevant chapters.** Latin accuracy was overseen by the magnificent chantefable, who had to walk the Psych major through a language she avoided in college.
> 
> [swing_set13](http://swing-set13.livejournal.com/) is fond of making lists of AU fanfic for her favorite pairings in her favorite fandoms. As a thank you for the Brad/Nate list, I offered to write this fic. What should have been 10,000 words of a funny fic, became 65,000 words of action/adventure.
> 
> To the best of my ability, I stuck to the various Marvel canons. Any deviations are very minor. I used NO canon from any of the ULTIMATE storylines. I stuck with comics canon only. No movie canon was used. There are, however, a few movie _images_ I am fond of, that are described and you should know them when you see them.
> 
> Angel's storyline is NOT canon. Mystique's IS.
> 
> Because there have been so many variations on character's appearances through the decades, and including the movies, you'll find [HERE](http://s664.photobucket.com/albums/vv10/kahtyasofia/Clypeus%20Tuo%20In%20Eo/) the images I used to influence my characters' appearances and costumes.

[ ](http://s664.photobucket.com/albums/vv10/kahtyasofia/Semper%20Cum%20Scuto/?action=view&current=000a4d92.jpg)

  


 

 ** _It’s a quiet afternoon at the luxurious mansion that serves as the Los Angeles headquarters of The Defenders._ **

The face of Bryan Patterson filled the gigantic screen in front of them. Just behind his shoulder stood Rudy Reyes; Patterson’s right hand, dogsbody, and all around voice of reason.

Brad barely suppressed a sigh. Patterson was a nosy prick, but Brad had to put up with it.  Not only was he one of the smartest fucking men on the planet, it was his name at the bottom of the Defenders’ metaphorical paycheck.

“Afternoon, Defenders,” Patterson said, by way of greeting. “Time for some of you to earn the right to live is that luxurious mansion I provide you with.”

“We’re on it like a motherfucker,” Ray declared loudly. “Nighthawk needed to save the world, as always.”

“Actually, Ray, as much as we appreciate your finer points,” Patterson replied, no change in expression, “it’s Iceman’s special talents that are needed. You and Hawkeye will go along as support, so do try not to get in is way too much.”

Ray drew breath to speak but stopped when Walt laid a hand on his arm. “We’ll give Brad all the help he needs, sir.” Walt declared firmly.

“What is the mission?” Brad asked, since it seemed he’d be doing the heavy lifting.

“The US Navy asked me to investigate what appears to be a human, frozen in a block of ice, submerged in the extreme North Atlantic.” Patterson leaned over to comment to Rudy. “If they’d bought their submarines from me, they could get there just as fast and check this thing out themselves.”

“Yes, sir,” Rudy said, expressionless. “A fact the Navy is aware of since you’ve pointed it out at least three times.”

“Human ice cube in the frozen North Atlantic. Sounds like Iceman’s idea of a vacation,” Ray quipped, “or maybe his version of a mutant blind date?”

Walt shushed him.

“If the Navy asked _you_ to check it out, why am I going?” Brad asked, as if Ray hadn’t spoken.

“Because Iron Man just received some shiny, new upgrades,” Patterson replied, as if that explained everything.

“Mr. Patterson has been asked to demonstrate the upgraded suit for the Joint Chiefs,” Rudy clarified.

Brad suppressed a grin. “If we’re responding as a team, the two flatscans will need transport,” he said.

“Not all of us can be freaky, Omega-level mutants, Brad,” Ray said, churlishly.

“Your loss.” Brad shrugged.

On the screen, Patterson arched an eyebrow. “Careful who you call a flatscan, Colbert. Remember who signs your paychecks.”

“Oh, I do,” Brad said with mock reverence. “Thank you, Rudy.”

“You’re very welcome, brother,” Rudy replied.

“Still here and still your employer,” Patterson said, sarcasm lacing every word. “Iceman, you’ll take a Patterson Industries jet to the east coast. There, you’ll board the Patterson Industries submarine, which will have you on site in a few hours.”

Brad silently marveled at the genius it took to design a sub that traveled that fast. “What do I do when I’m there?” he asked.

“Investigate the ice block, determine if there’s a risk,” Patterson’s answer was precise and succinct, just how Brad preferred. “If you need to execute a rescue, do it. If you find anything threatening, take it the fuck out.”

“When do we leave, sir?”

“As soon as you get up to the roof, Brad.” Patterson’s smile was slight, but the humor was unmistakable.

 **_Somewhere … deep in the North Atlantic Ocean …_ **

The submarine surfaced carefully through the ice pack. Brad stood back, arms crossed over his chest, listening to Ray and Walt run scans and analyze the information.

“The ice block is standard sea water, salinity and mineral levels consistent with the Northern Atlantic Ocean,” Ray said.

“Particles and life forms match the ice floes that passed through about five years ago,” Walt added.

“Readings on the subject frozen inside?” Brad asked.

“That’s the weirdest thing of all, Brad,” Ray answered. “He’s not a mutant. His readings are straight up human. They’re just from a really, really good human.”

“Meaning?”

“If there was such a thing as the perfect human, this guy’d be it. He’s at the extreme end of the range of human physical potential.”

Something tickled at Brad’s memory. A half remembered story ghosted across his mind but he couldn’t pin it down.

“Active life signs?” he asked.

“Affirmative, Brad,” Walt confirmed. “You’re go for a rescue and retrieval.”

“Gentlemen, I’m going for a swim,” Brad announced, turning and beginning to make his way to the stern of the boat.

As he made his way back, the highly trained civilian crew, all on Patterson’s payroll, made room for him to pass. Most kept their eyes averted, but a few nodded in respect. No one wanted to tangle with a giant man who could control the temperature of water to manipulate its form on an elemental level.

Brad reached the airlock door for the sub’s lowest external hatch. The crew was waiting for him. Ray or Walt must have told someone Brad was on his way.

“There’s a med team responding,” a young crewman said as Brad stepped through the open airlock door. “They’ll be standing by right here, awaiting your return.”

Brad nodded.

“Good luck, Iceman.”

The heavy door shut behind Brad with a metallic clang. Moments later, the airlock began to flood.

Icy Atlantic ocean water swirled around Brad, the level rising rapidly. He let his entire body turn to ice, literally, with hardly a thought. As soon as the water level reached halfway, Brad changed his form again. He became water itself.

He could hear the release of the exterior hatch, when the airlock was completely flooded. Brad flowed out of the lock and into the vast ocean.

Extending his senses, he felt around for his target. He pressed through free-flowing water, under and around the massive floes of ice, until he located the smaller, submerged block.

It was different, probably due to its human stowaway. The ice block floated differently, and moved sluggishly, bobbing just beneath the surface of the water. Brad caught up to it with ease.

Brad forced his body to coalesce back to a solid ice form. Placing his hands along the uneven sides of the ice block and slowly, he began the swim back to the submarine. He resisted the urge, but couldn’t help trying to make out the features of the man trapped inside. Though the ice was cracking and cloudy with inclusions, Brad could see just enough of the man.  He was stunned by the man’s beauty. His features were defined and distinct. His mouth was full; for all that his lips were blue from cold. His skin appeared to be smooth and pale.

Brad pulled himself from his thoughts. Now was not the time to be developing fantasies, even if it was face to frozen face with one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen. Focusing his power, Brad moved the ice block toward the waiting submarine. It moved easily, and he steered it with little effort.

Despite his efforts, he couldn’t help his repeated glances at the figure in the ice. The man wore a military uniform, solid olive-colored. Brad would have expected woodland or desert camo. The ice distorted the view, but Brad could clearly make out a large pocket that bore the eagle, globe, and anchor, along with USMC. On the other was most likely a name patch. It said RICK, or FICK, or something like that. The entire uniform looked _vintage_ to Brad.

Once he had made it back to the hatch, he forced the ice block to melt instantaneously. Brad swept down and gathered the unconscious man before he could sink too far, holding him tight to his chest. He keyed the code to the outer door of the airlock and when it opened, he swept them both inside.

Brad closed the outer door and turned to the crewman peering at him through the window in the inner door. He gave the O.K. sign and heard the mechanism engage that would drain the water from the lock.

Kneeling, Brad held his ice form and kept the Marine cradled against his chest. He could read the name patch clearly, now. It said FICK. He ran his hands over the body in his arms – limbs floating limply in the water - checking for obvious injuries, and finding none. The uniform seemed to have Lieutenant insignia on it. Brad noted the service shoes and canvas leggings, where he expected leather combat boots.

The water level dropped and Brad could see the man’s skin was indeed pale and smooth. It was nearly translucent from the cold, delicate blue veins visible along his closed eyelids. He felt solid and well muscled beneath Brad’s hands. His hair was slicked back from his handsome face, but between the water and the dim light, Brad couldn’t tell what color it might be.

The inner door activated and Brad pulled himself back into the present. A crewman entered and grabbed the unconscious man’s legs, helping Brad carry him out of the airlock to a waiting stretcher. They set the man down on the gurney and he was immediately swarmed by several doctors and medics. Brad felt superfluous.

Walt suddenly appeared beside him. “I put some dry clothes in your quarters, Brad,” he said quietly. “Any idea who he is?”

“Possible last name of Fick; foxtrot, india, charlie, kilo,” Brad answered, “Lieutenant, USMC. Check back fifty, sixty years. His uniform seems old. Out of date.”

He watched as the medical team cut Lt. Fick from his clothing.  He had a brief glimpse of fair skin before the man was covered in warming blankets and tucked with bags of hot saline.  Brad swallowed reflexively – he’d been right. The man was solid and well muscled. Brad remembered the feel of those muscles beneath his palms. They tingled at the memory.

“Ray and I will check on it.” Walt placed a hand on Brad’s arm to get his attention away from the medics working on the boat’s newest guest.  “Go get changed, Brad.”

Reluctantly, Brad headed for his quarters. He could alter the water molecules in fabrics to turn them into liquid or ice, but he couldn’t dry them out, when he himself and taken the form of water. It had never been a more inconvenient limitation.

As Brad quickly changed his clothes, he hoped Ray and Walt found some information soon. He hoped even more fervently that the man would wake up in the next few minutes.

As soon as his clothes were changed, Brad picked up his earpiece off the small desk in the corner and activated the comm. “Ray,” he snapped, “sit rep?”

“The medics took Popsicle-boy to the infirmary,” Ray answered. “His core temp has risen quickly and steadily, but he’s still unconscious.”

“Any idea who he is?”

“ _He’s a US Marine with the last name of Fick_ ,” Ray fired back.

“Thank you, Ray,” Brad responded drily.  “Have you learned anything of _additional_ usefulness, or do I have to do your job, and mine too?”

“ _You_ wish _you could dig up the dirt that I do, Brad,_ ” Ray sounded offended and not a little hurt. “ _You think this shit is easy?_ ”

“Find something, Ray,” Brad growled, impatient.

“ _You’re the one who interrupted_ me _._ ”

Brad impatiently shut off his comm. He stormed out of his quarters and headed for the infirmary, brushing brusquely past the people he encountered along the way.

The Marine was propped in a comfortable looking, if narrow, hospital bed. He was no longer covered by the heavy duty warming blankets, but was simply covered in one of the Patterson Industries Med Blankets that monitored vitals as it regulated body temperature.

“He seems to be resting comfortably,” a medic told him. “Brain activity is still a little low, but we think that’ll pick up as he gets closer to waking.”

“ _Will_ he wake up?” Brad asked.

“We have no reason to think he won’t,” the medic replied.

Brad moved to stand beside the bed. Fick’s hair was dry now, and Brad could see it was dark blond and wavy, burnished slightly with red. He looked almost alive now. Fick had color in his cheeks, and his lips were nearly red. They looked soft. Brad wondered what they’d feel like –

A tone sounded in his ear, which meant someone was trying to raise him on the comm. Brad turned it back on, on the chance Ray had information.

“ _Dude_ ,” Ray’s voice jarred Brad, “ _the Sub-Mariner tossed him into the ocean! Can you believe that fucker?_ ”

“What are you talking about, Ray?” Brad asked, hoping this had something to do with Fick.

“ _Popsicle-boy was tucked up, all nice and quiet in his block of ice, being worshiped by an Arctic Inuit tribe._ ” Brad could tell Ray was working up a rant. “ _He was minding his own business, being treated like a god and all, and fucking retarded Schwetje took exception to that. Instead of rescuing the guy, or calling one of us to help, he just puts on his superhero tights, goes into Sub-Mariner mode, and tosses the block of ice into the North Atlantic. Complete with its creamy Marine filling._ ”

Brad rolled his eyes. Ray was right. Schwetje was retarded. “How did Fick get into the ice block in the first place, Ray?”

“ _Still workin’ on that._ ”

“How about you stop bothering me with your useless drivel, and find out?”

“ _Jesus, Brad,_ ” Ray replied, mockingly, “ _how ‘bout you get your panties out of their twist. Just hold your boyfriend’s hand and let me get back to work._ ”

Brad turned off his comm in frustration. But he _did_ wrap his fingers around Fick’s limp hand.

Walt came into the infirmary, smiling at the medics. Brad snatched his hand away from Fick’s. Hopefully before Walt saw.

“Ray’s onto something but he’s being stonewalled by the military,” Walt said, handing Brad an e-tablet to read.  “There was a Marine Corps Lieutenant; Fick, Nathaniel C., back in World War II.”

Brad paged through Ray’s preliminary report. “And?”

“His records dead-end with a single entry; ‘Operation: Rebirth.’”

“What the fuck is Operation: Rebirth?” Brad’s patience was nearing its absolute end.

“That’s where Ray keeps running into roadblocks,” Walt calmly replied. “He’s contacted Rudy to get Patterson’s clearances, so he can access the records.”

“At least he’s using his brain,” Brad muttered, handing the e-tablet back to Walt.

Waving it away, Walt continued, “Hang onto it. Ray can forward information as he finds it.”

Brad set the device down and turned back to Fick. Possibly Nathaniel. Nathan? Nate, maybe? Had he really been frozen in that ice block since World War II? If so, how the fuck did he get there?

“I’m going to go back and help Ray keep digging,” Walt said quietly.

Brad nodded.

When Walt had gone, Brad wrapped is fingers around Fick’s hand once more. It was good that he felt warm to the touch, now.

Alarms began to sound on the monitors near the bed.

“What is it?” Brad demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the medic replied hastily, checking different readouts. “It looks like his brain activity is rapidly increasing. He’s probably getting ready to regain consciousness.”

Brad’s grip on Fick’s hand tightened slightly. He eased closer to the bed, and watched for any sign Fick might be waking up.

 **_Meanwhile, in the dark recesses of an unconscious mind …_ **

Nate struggled toward the light. Behind him lay fear, pain, and cold. Bone-aching cold. Ahead, he could just make out a warm light. He could hear, finally. He’d been deaf for so long.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Nate opened his eyes. The light was blinding, it made his head hurt and he blinked against it several times. He was surrounded by muted sounds. Soft voices discussed medical terms. He must be back in the Rebirth laboratory. That would make sense. Nate’s hands fisted convulsively as he struggled to breathe evenly. There was something in one of his hands. It felt warm and firm. It felt like someone was holding his hand.

“Easy, Marine,” a soft, deep voice said from just above Nate. “You’re safe. You’re going to be fine. Just relax and stay calm.”

Nate didn’t recognize the voice as one of his doctors or a lab assistant. He squinted against the bright light and tried to force himself to focus on the face hovering above him.

Blue eyes. Really attractive blue eyes. They stared down at him with warmth, humor, and just a little bit of hesitance. That confused Nate. He swallowed against his parched throat and then cleared it, wondering how hard it would be to speak.

“That’s it,” the man above him said, soothingly, “just go with it.” The right side of his mouth lifted slightly in a half smile.

Nate couldn’t find his voice. He’d never woken up to anyone this attractive watching over him. The man seemed exceptionally tall and was narrow-featured and handsome. With his short blond hair, he made Nate think of a Norse god or a Viking raider.

Nate’s heart began to pound in his chest. Panic rose up in him like a deadly wave. The height, the broad shoulders, Nordic features, blond hair … Nate’s brain seized on one word and wouldn’t let it go.

 _Nazi_.

He tore his hand out of the Nazi’s grip and didn’t stop to ponder the look of confusion and concern that rolled over his face. Nate clawed at the covers, trying to scramble out of the bed and get to his feet. He had no idea how the Germans had gotten their hands on him. The last thing he remembered was trying to defuse a bomb on an airplane. There’d been blinding light and a deafening roar and he’d been falling …

“Easy, Fick,” the Nazi said, palms out in supplication, “just calm down, Nate. It _is_ Nate, isn’t it?”

Fuck. How had this Kraut learned his name? Did he know Nate’s other identity, as well?

His mind seized on another tactic. Nate slumped down in the bed, lying passively. He stared up at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with any German.

“Fick, Nathaniel Christopher, Lieutenant, USMC, three-two-eight-four-nine-one.” Nate would only give them his name, rank, and serial number.

“Okay, so it is Nate,” the Nazi said.

Nate replied by repeating his name, rank, and serial number. There was no way these Nazi bastards could find out his other identity just from that information.

 **_Iceman watches in confusion as Nate wakes up, only to completely withdraw once again…_ **

Brad didn’t dare attempt to place a comforting hand on Nate. He’d been stunned when Nate had woken and opened his brilliant green eyes. Wishful thinking had made him sure he’d seen the smallest spark of attraction before Nate had panicked and then shut down.

No matter what question Brad asked, Nate gave the same reply, the same set of words followed by a string of numbers.

“What happened to him?” Brad asked the medics. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sir,” one of them replied. “He’s in perfect health and his brain waves are normal. He’s choosing to give that same answer. He’s in full control of his faculties.”

Walt walked in at that moment. “Hey Brad, Ray found … oh, hey, he’s awake.”

Brad seized on a thought. “Walt, have Ray use Patterson’s clearance codes to get everything he can on Lt. Nathaniel Christopher Fick, United States Marine Corps, serial number three-two-eight-four-nine-one.” Brad didn’t miss the way Nate’s hands curled into fists.

“I’ll tell him, while you read your panel,” Walt replied. “He’s dug something up on Operation: Rebirth.”

Brad saw Nate’s jaw clench because he was watching closely.

Retrieving his e-tablet, Brad scanned through the information Ray had sent.

“Operation: Rebirth, launched in 1940 and headed up by Dr. Abraham Erskine, code name: Josef Reinstein, under the supervision of Marine General Chester Phillips,” Brad read aloud. “The goal was to develop a means of creating physically superior soldiers.”

“How the fuck did you get access to that information?” Nate demanded unexpectedly. Anger and outrage were apparent in his expression and every line of his body.

“The internet; an annoying, yet irritatingly gifted computer genius; and the security pass codes of a man who owns three-quarters of the world,” Brad hoped levity would set Nate at ease.

Instead, Nate’s face paled, his expression one of utter shock. “Hitler owns three-quarters of the world now? How long was I unconscious?”

Brad’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hitler?” He’d heard Bryan Patterson called a lot of things, but this one was new.

Walt gave a short laugh. “Can I be there when you tell Patterson his new nickname?”

“Careful, Walt, or you’ll be the one telling him. In person,” Brad threatened. He resumed reading. This information had gotten a reaction from Nate once, maybe it would work again.

“After a rigorous selection process, the Super-Soldier serum,” Brad stopped reading. “Oh, for chrissake, Super-Soldier serum? Is this Ray’s idea of a joke?”

“It’s not a joke, you dirty Nazi,” Nate spat, chest heaving with every breath.

“That makes sense, Brad,” Walt said, with mock sincerity. “If Patterson’s Hitler, that would make you a Nazi.”

“And just when I was bordering on being able to tolerate you, Hasser,” Brad sighed.

“Seriously, Brad,” Walt made a sweeping hand gestured that indicated the length of Brad’s body, “you do sort of have that whole Aryan perfection thing happening.”

Something suddenly occurred to Brad, and it turned his blood to ice.

“Nate, you are not in Nazi Germany,” he said carefully. “We’re American.” Brad gestured around the room. “You’re on an American submarine.  Our boss is American, and his name is Bryan Patterson, not Adolf Hitler.”

Nate’s eyes darted between Brad and Walt, both blue-eyed, blond-haired, and fair skinned, and looked doubtful.

“Hitler was defeated in 1945,” Brad continued. “America won. The Allies won. We retrieved you from the Atlantic Ocean at the request of the United States Navy.”

“The Aryan race has been genetically proven to be a myth,” Walt added. “Brad’s just … well, we aren’t sure what Brad is, but he looks like he’s Scandinavian.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Brad said derisively, “a Jewish Viking.”

“You’re Jewish?” Nate asked incredulously.

Brad nodded.

“Then you can’t be …” Nate broke off.

“A Nazi,” Brad finished for him.

Nate relaxed, looking around the infirmary as if seeing it with fresh eyes.

Ray burst into the room. “Brad, Brad, you gotta read what I just sent to your tablet … oh, hey, Popsicle-boy’s awake.”

“His name is Nate,” Brad snapped.

“Well, that’s the name they gave him when he was born,” Ray sing-songed, looking like a canary-eating feline.

Brad turned back to the panel in his hand and scanned through Nate’s personal information. “It says here, Nate, that you were declared missing-in-action, presumed dead, in April of 1945. You were trying to stop a Baron Zemo – seriously? – from destroying an experimental drone plane.”

“I think I remember that,” Nate murmured, his eyes looking distant, as if he was trying to access a memory. “We were flying over the Atlantic and I was trying to defuse the bomb when …”

“It detonated,” Brad finished for him.

Nate looked up at Brad, eyes wide.

Brad found himself snared by Nate’s gaze. He knew he should glance away, pick up the thread of the conversation but he couldn’t. He waited for Nate to break the connection, but those brilliant green eyes stayed locked on his.

“Now we know how he ended up frozen in a block of ice,” Walt observed.

Brad managed not to startle at the sound of Walt’s voice. He felt slightly disappointed when Nate finally glanced away.

“I was frozen in a block of ice?” Nate asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Floating in the North Atlantic,” Brad confirmed.

“Okay, you can play rescue ranger later, Brad,” Ray said. “Keep reading.”

“One subject was deemed suitable for injection with Super-Soldier serum – Lt. Nathaniel Fick, United States Marine Corps.” Brad lowered the tablet and looked at Nate. “You were an experimental test subject?”

“A _successful_ experimental test subject.” Nate was looking at Brad as if willing him to understand something.

Brad resumed reading. “Lt. Fick survived the conversion process to become a human with extraordinary strength, speed and reflexes. His enhanced skills were utilized for Ultra Top Secret, ultra dangerous missions. He was issued the code name …”

“Wait for it,” Ray said, watching Brad with an evil smile.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Brad cried, tossing the tablet at Ray.

“That’s right, Brad,” Ray crowed. “You just rescued Captain America!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Nate’s head was spinning from the revelations of the past several minutes …_ **

He’d been frozen in a block of ice for sixty-six years. Hitler had been defeated, to Nate’s relief. Someone named Bryan Patterson owned three-quarters of the planet and had his own private submarine. The tall, handsome one – Brad – and his friends seemed like good men.

For all that they seemed to be trying to get under Brad’s skin, his friends deferred to him. They followed his orders and sought his approval. While their rank structure was unclear, it was obvious that Brad was their leader. A natural leader, whatever rank he held.

Nate respected that. He _liked_ that.

“All right, gents,” Brad said into the loud sounds of disbelief that filled the room.

As Nate expected they would, everyone fell silent and turned to look at Brad; including Nate.

“Captain America is an urban legend,” Brad said, looking Nate right in the eye. “It’s a story told to baby superheroes to get us to behave; to enforce some sort of moral code.”

“I assure you, Brad,” Nate said, ignoring the warmth slowly spreading through his chest, “Captain America was… _is_ very real. _I_ am very real.” He wasn’t sure why he’d added that last sentence.

“You’re very real, I can tell.” Brad looked as though he were about to smile but thought better of it. His expression stayed serious as he stared down at Nate. “If you tell me you’re Captain America, I guess I have to believe you.”

“Patterson’s codes got us a fuck-ton of information, Brad.” they were interrupted by Brad’s companion. Ray, Nate thought was his name. “It’s all true. All the stories we’ve ever been told are true.” Ray seemed much more sedate than he had been just minutes before. He handed Brad the plastic panel they seemed to be reading from.

Nate watched Brad repeatedly touch a fingertip to the surface of the panel. He watched Brad’s blue eyes move, as if he were reading. Nate’s hands itched to get a hold of that panel and see if it really was able to provide a seemingly endless amount of information to read.

“Enhanced strength, reflexes, and endurance,” Brad murmured. “Extensive battle experience, mastery of multiple martial arts, excels at combat strategy, survival techniques …” he trailed off. Nate watched as Brad’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Really, Nate? An American flag leotard?”

Nate eagerly took the panel when Brad turned it around and handed it to him. It held a vividly colored photograph of Nate in his Captain America costume, holding his shield. This thing really was amazing. “It was a flight suit, done up in red, white, and blue.” He felt defensive at Brad’s dubious reaction. “I’m Captain _America_.”

Brad snatched the panel from Nate’s hand. “Better than yellow spandex, I guess.”

“Don’t let Logan hear you say that,” Ray said, eyes wide. “He’ll skewer you with Adamantium.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, Ray,” Brad said, seemingly unafraid of what Ray thought was a serious threat. “Adamantium doesn’t cut water.”

“Admit it, Brad, Wolvie rocked the yellow spandex,” Ray said with a wide grin.

“Hey, give the yellow spandex a break,” said Brad’s other friend, the shorter blond. He seemed annoyed with Brad and Ray. “Those were prototype suits. Dr. Richards was just learning how to use unstable molecules for clothing.”

Brad started to reply but Nate found himself interrupting. “I’m sorry, unstable molecules used for clothing? Spandex? You said something earlier about baby superheroes; has the government learned how to generate superpowers at birth? And what is _that_ ,” he gestured, “that you’re reading from?”

“Way to go, Brad,” Ray said, smacking Brad in the arm, “you overloaded Cap’s brain.”

Brad held up his hands for silence, and he received it. “Everybody back up and let’s handle this in a methodical fashion. Ray, does Patterson know about Nate?”

“I forwarded a preliminary report of everything we know so far,” Ray answered.

“Walt, does the skipper have orders to get us home?”

Walt; the smaller blond who looked like he could be Brad’s younger brother. Nate made a mental note of that.

“Affirmative, Brad,” Walt answered. “We’re oscar-mike as we speak.”

Nate started to ask for clarification but Brad held up a hand to forestall him. “All in due time.”

Nate nodded his understanding.

“Can someone scrounge up some clothes for Lt. Fick?” Brad asked one of the circling medics.

“Absolutely, sir,” the man answered. “I’ll see to it myself.”

“Thank you,” Brad said, as the medic stepped through the hatch door. Turning to Ray, he said, “Call ahead to the mansion and make sure rooms are made available for our guest.”

Ray sketched a sloppy salute and left the room.

“Walt, I need your help,” Brad said, running a hand over his short, blond hair. Nate wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

“Whatever you need, Brad,” Walt replied eagerly.

“Put together a quick assimilation packet for Nate,” Brad crossed his arms over his broad chest. He stepped closer to Walt so he could speak in a lowered voice. “Everything he’s going to need to know about the last sixty-six years; world history, American culture, pop culture, technology, geo-politics,” Brad paused, “I’d say sexual politics but even _I_ don’t have that completely sorted yet.”

Walt smiled up at Brad. Nate pushed away the small twinge of jealously that tightened his chest.

“I know what you’re getting at,” Walt said. “I’ll get started on it right now.”

“Can you throw together a preliminary overview that he can read on my tablet?” Brad asked. “I’ll get him started while I’m getting food into him.”

“You got it,” Walt said, turning on his heel. With a nod in Nate’s direction, he left.

The medic who went in search of clothing came back, handing Brad a stack of dark blue items that appeared to match what the rest of the medical crew were wearing.

“Those should fit perfectly,” he said.

“Thank you,” Brad said. He set the clothing on the foot of Nate’s bed and looked around the room. “Can we give Lt. Fick some privacy?”

Nate realized he was grateful to Brad for his forethought. He wasn’t bashful, but he’d been in a block of ice for more than half a century. Nate realized he could use some alone time to try to get his balance in the face of all of these developments.

“I’ll be right outside the hatch door,” Brad said, ducking to step through.

“No,” Nate said, the desperation in his voice surprising even himself.

Brad straightened and looked at Nate, confusion and concern evident on his features.

“I don’t want to be completely alone, right now,” Nate heard himself say. He hadn’t realized until he’d said it.

“Okay,” Brad said slowly, his gaze on Nate intense but unreadable.

Nate reached for the clothing and froze. While he didn’t want Brad to leave the room, the idea of dressing in front of him made Nate more than a little nervous. He assumed his body was the same as he remembered it being but that was no guarantee.

“Could you…” Nate trailed off with a self-deprecating smile and pointed at the floor, and making a spinning motion with his finger. The right side of Brad’s mouth lifted in a smile and Nate’s breath caught. Brad turned to face the bulkhead, crossing his arms again. Nate’s mouth went dry at the sight of Brad’s shirt stretching across the muscles of his broad shoulders and back.

“No need for concern, sir,” Nate could hear the laughter in Brad’s voice. “You virtue is safe.”

Nate wasn’t sure why that reassurance disappointed him. He quickly shed the thin cotton hospital pajamas. The medic had thought of everything. Or at least Nate assumed he had. What appeared to be a new pair of white skivvies weren’t like anything he’d ever seen before. They were longer in the legs than Y-fronts but much snugger in the … groin … area than cotton drawers. They seemed to fit. The tube socks were easily identified.

Nate was tugging what seemed like a flight suit, over his hips when his curiosity got the better of him. “You didn’t answer me before,” he said.

“No, I didn’t,” Brad agreed. “But which question in particular are you referring to?”

“Has the government figured out how to instill superpowers at birth?” Nate paused to pull the stretchy undershirt over his head. “Are there others out there like me?” He pulled the flight suit over his shoulders and zipped it up his chest halfway.

“Yes, there are others like you now. Ray, for one, possesses mild super-strength and increased agility and durability from dusk till dawn, thanks to an alchemical potion.”

“Ray’s a superhero?” Nate couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. He tugged on the second black boot and began to lace it.

“His code name is Nighthawk,” Brad supplied.

“That suits,” Nate murmured.

Brad snorted a laugh. “Some are born with special talents but they’re not granted by the government,” his tone grew dark.

“I’m decent,” Nate announced. “And what do you mean, ‘born with special talents’?”

Brad turned around and appeared about to speak. When his eyes landed on Nate, they slowly skimmed his body from head to toe. A warm light sparked in Brad’s eyes and an answering tug pulled low in Nate’s belly. Brad swallowed hard and the light was gone.

“Some of us are born with mutations to our genes that are so extreme we develop abilities that are well outside the normal human spectrum,” Brad finally said.

Nate didn’t understand everything Brad had said. His mind latched on to the words ‘us’ and ‘we’, and wouldn’t let go. “You,” he started, but had to clear his throat to continue. “You’re a superhero?”

Brad rolled his eyes derisively. “Patterson says I am. I think it’s bullshit. What I am, without question, is a _mutant_. I can manipulate the temperature of water on the molecular level, including the molecules in my own body.”

Nate watched, heart pounding, as Brad raised an arm in front of his own body and pushed his sleeve over his elbow. Before Nate’s very eyes, Brad’s arm turned to solid ice.

 

 **_Iceman reveals his mutation to Captain America, fearing how well this information will be received …_ **

Nate’s eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped as Brad displayed his arm, now turned to clear, solid ice. He moved his fingers so Nate could see that he maintained his mobility. “This is how I got my code name: Iceman.”

“You were born with this gift?” Nate whispered, his eyes lifted to Brad’s and held nothing but awe.

Brad shook his arm, returning it to flesh and bone. “Yeah.”

“No special serums or treatments?”

“No.”

Understanding flashed in Nate’s eyes. “Ice! You rescued me. Literally. You manipulated the block of ice I was in.”

Something in Brad’s gut loosened as Nate’s reaction seemed one of appreciation and not revulsion.

“Thank you,” Nate blurted suddenly.

“For what?” Brad asked, confused.

“For rescuing me.”

Brad waved him off. He looked away, hoping to hide the heat he felt flooding his cheeks. “No problem. So, let’s get you to the mess and get some food into you.”

Nate looked like he was going to say something but changed his mind. “Lead the way,” he finally said.

Luckily the mess wasn’t far from the infirmary. It was also blessedly empty. Brad set his e-tablet on a table. Before he could explain the mess hall to Nate, Brad turned to see him with a tray in hand, already talking to the cook.

Nate looked up at him and smiled when Brad came to stand next to him. That smile did things to Brad he didn’t want to think about.

“Looks like a Navy mess hasn’t changed much in sixty-six years,” Nate said.

“Right,” Brad said, with no choice but to return the smile, “Marine Corps. However, in the interest of full discloser, and the fact that we need to get you acclimated to the present century, this submarine is privately owned. The crew is all civilian.”

Nate’s expression was disbelieving. “I remember you mentioned that earlier. Is it even possible for this kind of wealth and power to be in the hands of one person and not a government?”

Brad snorted. “The government would love to get their hands on Patterson’s money and toys. They’d lose all the money and break all the toys inside of year, though, so he tends not to share.”

When their trays were full, Brad led Nate to a table in the corner.

“So, how many of you are there?” Nate asked, before he’d taken a single bite of food. “Do you all have the same abilities? What kind of training do they put you through? It must have been fantastic for you growing up, knowing you had these gifts and that your life had a purpose.”

Brad’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. Nate’s last statement caught him completely off guard. He’d never met anyone who wasn’t in some way jaded and cynical.

“It’s not always a good thing, sir,” he said carefully, “being a mutant. The government you knew? The one you worked for? It doesn’t exist anymore. That _world_ doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not sure it ever did.”

Brad’s eyes dropped to watch Nate worry his lower lip as he considered Brad’s words. “The last thing I remember before I was blown up was that I was the only person in the world with the ability to do what I was trying to do. Now, you’re telling me there are others out there. Some are created, like me. But others, like you, were _born_ special. Can’t you even begin to imagine how that makes me feel?”

He could actually. Brad clearly remembered the day he found out he wasn’t alone; there was a school filled with others just like him. He remembered exactly how he’d felt the first time he’d been treated as _valuable_ , instead of like a freak.

“I can, as a matter of fact,” he admitted quietly, refusing to look away from Nate’s frank and earnest gaze. “But it’s complicated. No one really knows how many of us there are and more are surfacing every day. We’ve resisted efforts to register and track us. You understand why that is, sir? It worked so well when the Nazi’s did it, after all.”

Brad watched as Nate paled and swallowed convulsively. “I remember … we were just starting to learn the extent of what they’d been conducting in their labs and death camps.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t the first genocide the world’s ever seen, and it certainly won’t be the last,” Brad sighed, reaching for his e-tablet. He handed it to Nate. “Here, Walt put this together to get you started on catching up. He’ll have something for you soon that will help you assimilate everything in just a few days, instead of a few months or years.”

He watched Nate poke at the screen tentatively, learning how to use it. Brad knew the moment he figured it out. The look in Nate’s eyes shifted from intense focus to one of triumph. He couldn’t wait to show Nate his cell phone and tell him that it had more computing power than the entire landing pod in the first mission to the moon. On the other hand, he couldn’t wait to tell Nate they’d sent men to walk on the moon.

“Walt,” Nate said, startling Brad out of his reverie, “he’s your other friend? The fair-haired one?”

Brad nodded. “Friends might be a stretch. Colleagues. Teammates. Fellow warriors, possibly.

“Is he a superhero?” Nate hadn’t looked up from the tablet yet.

“Yes. His code name is Hawkeye. He’s a third kind of superhero we have running around, these days. No superpowers at all.” Brad said.

Nate’s eyes shot up and locked with Brad’s. “None at all?”

“None. He’s got natural abilities in fencing, gymnastics, and marksmanship that exceed the average human. With some excellent training in martial arts and a quiver of arrows that have been technologically enhanced, I’m just glad he and I are on the same side.”

Nate smiled slightly, glancing back down at the tablet. “Women? There are women superheroes?”

“Don’t, sir,” Brad said quickly. “Don’t say things like that, as if they surprise you.”

“But I _am_ surprised, Brad. “The women who served in the Marines along side of me were never used for combat,” Nate replied.

“Yeah, but these days, that attitude will get your ass kicked.” Brad leaned forward slightly to emphasize his words. “By the _women_ superheroes.”

“Duly noted,” Nate said. He smiled and Brad felt like he’d been kicked.

Brad picked at the food on his tray as he watched Nate surreptitiously. Nate ate slowly, most likely not even aware of what he was doing, while he read the e-tablet.

“No one learned anything,” Nate murmured.

“Sorry, sir?” Brad asked.

“They called The Great War, ‘The War to End All Wars’ and yet, the last thing I remember was being at war with Germany again.” Nate’s tone was dark. It held a note of disillusionment. “People are still killing each other. They haven’t learned a thing.”

Brad couldn’t look up from his tray. There was nothing he could say that would mitigate the truth of Nate’s words.

Several long moments later, all of Brad’s dark thoughts were pushed away when Nate looked up at him and smiled. His face was open and joyous, green eyes sparkling. “Men have walked on the moon!”

Nate’s smile was contagious and Brad felt the corners of his own mouth lifting. “A few men have, yes.”

“Space travel.” Nate’s voice was filled with wonder. “The last sixty-six years haven’t been all bad, I guess.”

“They cured polio and can transplant human organs, so people with serious illnesses can live decades longer.” Brad knew he was getting a little ahead of things, but something in him wanted Nate to connect with this century; to find something about it that he liked and appreciated.

Nate’s brow furrowed and he looked as though he was going to ask a question, when Brad’s comm beeped at him. He held up a finger to ask Nate for patience. “Go ahead,” he said, letting his annoyance at the interruption carry loud and clear.

“ _Dude,_ ” Ray’s voice grated on Brad’s nerves, “ _Patterson wants to talk to Captain America. Bring your new boyfriend to the control room to meet daddy_.”

Brad schooled his features, aware Nate was watching him closely. “We’re on our way,” he said, without acknowledging Ray’s bullshit. “We have to go,” Brad said to Nate. “The boss wants to talk to you.”

“The boss is Patterson, right?” Nate asked.

Brad nodded.  

“How do you do that?” Nate made a motion toward his ear, then his mouth. “Talk to each other without a telephone or a radio handset?”

As they headed for the command center, Nate followed Brad through the narrow spaces. Brad removed his earbud and held it up for Nate to see. “It works as a microphone and a receiver,” he said, before replacing it.

“I’m starting to feel like I’ll never be able to catch up,” Nate sighed.

“We’ve all got your back, sir,” Brad assured him. “We’ll help in any way we can.”

“You keep calling me ‘sir’,” Nate said. “Don’t you out rank me?”

Brad was so surprised, he nearly stopped walking. Nate had to take a step backward to avoid colliding.

“I’m a civilian,” he said. “I don’t hold a rank.”

“But you’re in charge of everyone,” Nate didn’t make that a question. “They all defer to you.”

Brad snorted, wondering where Nate had gotten that strange idea. “It was my mission to rescue you; Ray and Walt came along as support, so I suppose I was in charge of this mission.”

Before Nate could reply, they arrived at the command center.

“I worked out the bugs in the Pym particle arrows, so there are several hundred quivers full waiting for you at the mansion,” Patterson was saying as they entered the room. He and Rudy were displayed on the oversized monitor that took up the better part of the bulkhead. “I need to perfect the mechanism of adherence to surfaces for the vibranium arrows but once I’m satisfied, I’ll send them over.”

“Thank you, sir,” Walt replied. “After a little target practice I should be good to go.”

Brad leaned down slightly and whispered against Nate’s ear, “Now Bryan Patterson is ‘sir’.” He was sure he imagined Nate’s shiver.

“Ah, this must be Captain America,” Patterson said, catching sight of Brad and Nate.

“Nate, this is Bryan Patterson, CEO of Patterson Enterprises and the man who funds all of our fun.” Brad led Nate forward with a hand at the small of his back. He could feel the heat of Nate’s body through his clothing. Brad wondered what his skin would feel like. “Bryan invented himself a fancy metal suit that gives him superpowers. Now he calls himself Iron Man.”

“With the little I’ve already learned about technology these days, I imagine it puts my Duralumin scale armor to shame,” Nate said, sitting in the chair Brad indicated.

“Bryan, this is Lt. Nate Fick, USMC, Code Name: Captain America.” Brad stood with his hands on the back of Nate’s chair.

“It’s an honor, Lieutenant,” Patterson said. “And don’t knock the Duralumin, it got the job done and we never did figure out how to recreate it. Believe me, I tried and if _I_ couldn’t do it, it just can’t be done. However, I got a hold of your Vibranium shield some years back so I could reverse engineer the materials.”

“You have my shield?” Nate asked excitedly.

“Unfortunately, no. It was destroyed in all the testing I had to do.”

Brad saw when Nate’s shoulders fell slightly.

“However,” Rudy interrupted, “Mr. Patterson’s tests resulted in the discovery of the superior metal, Adamantium, from which we will be happy to create a suitable shield for you, Lieutenant.”

Brad sent a silent thank you to Rudy.

“Brad seems to have stolen my thunder,” Patterson continued. “First, he fished you out of the ocean. Now he’s made arrangements for your comfort at the Defender’s mansion in Los Angeles. He’s got Walt working on a way to get you up to speed on everything you’ve missed since 1945. He’s clothed you and fed you, so there’s nothing left for me to do except to say, ‘welcome back’.”

“Thank you, Mr. Patterson,” Nate said, inclining his head. “And yes, Brad has treated me exceptionally well. Thank you for sending him.”

Brad ignored the way his heart rate kicked up at Nate’s words. He’d be grateful to whoever had fished him out of the ocean. Brad was nothing special.

Rudy again interjected, “I’ve taken the liberty of sending someone to the mansion to help out with Lt. Fick’s assimilation into the twenty-first century. His name is Mike Wynn. He’s worked at Patterson Industries for several years and is very adept at assisting our newly minted executives during their adjustment period.”

Brad was pleased with the choice of Mike Wynn. He was smart, capable, and a steady hand. Brad just didn’t understand why the thought of someone else helping with Nate’s adjustment to the twenty-first century made his chest tighten.

“A babysitter,” Nate said to Patterson, and didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Think of him more as a sidekick,” Rudy replied.

“There’s something I want to make you aware of, Lieutenant,” Patterson said with an irritated glance at Rudy. “The government is making a lot of noise about getting you back. They want to make you active service again so they can claim you’re their property. I told them what they could do with that idea. You’ll be safe at the Defender’s mansion until you’re sure what it is _you_ want to do.”

Sometimes Brad really liked Bryan Patterson.

Nate sat up straighter. “If the government wants me back, Mr. Patterson, I have to go. Captain America is a product of their research and experimentation.”

Brad’s gut did a slow, queasy roll.

“Nate, listen to me,” Patterson said, leaning forward for emphasis. “This isn’t 1945 anymore. The government isn’t the same. I doubt it was ever as altruistic as many people believe. Be that as it may, this government - the one we have right now - isn’t interested in your well being. They don’t want you back so you can protect America and save innocent people. They want you for the same reason they want Iron Man. They want to weaponize you.”

“But that’s not Captain America’s function,” Nate protested. “What exactly would be the benefit?”

Patterson shrugged. “Money? Power? Land? Oil? Hiding their tiny-dick complex? I don’t know and I don’t care. Give yourself time to understand the world you woke up to. If then, you want to give yourself over to the government; no one will stand in your way.”

Nate relaxed slightly. Brad decided to show Nate just how bad an idea that would be.

“I guarantee you this, Lieutenant,” Patterson shook a finger at them, “if you hand yourself to the government now and discover later it was a mistake, you’ll never get out alive. Ever. Take some time before you make an informed decision. Besides, I pay better.”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir,” Nate said quietly.

“Well, I have to run and testify before the Senate,” Patterson said. “So, if you gentlemen will excuse me? You’ll be back in Los Angeles in a few hours. If you need anything at all, just let Rudy know.”

Brad thanked Patterson.

“Once again, Lieutenant,” Patterson continued, “welcome back.”

The screen went dark.

Nate sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He suddenly looked exhausted; defeated.  

“Nate?” Brad asked carefully, running his finger over his upper lip. “Are you all right?”

“I’m suddenly very tired,” he answered, running his thumb and forefinger over his eyes.

“You’ve been through a lot in the last several hours,” Brad said, turning toward Ray. “Can we scrounge a cabin for the Lieutenant?”

“Your cabin has two racks, doesn’t it, Brad?” Ray asked, smiling wide.

Brad lifted an eyebrow at him. Arguing would only prolong the discussion and make Ray happy. Brad didn’t want Ray to be happy.

“That’ll work,” he replied. Laying a hand briefly on Nate’s shoulder, Brad said, “Come on, Nate. Let’s get you squared away. You’ll feel better after some rack time.”

When Brad closed the hatch on his quarters, the space seemed so much smaller with Nate in it.

Brad gestured toward the upper bunk. “Why don’t you take the top rack? That way, if I come back later to sleep there’ll be less chance of me disturbing you.”

“That’s fine,” Nate sighed.

He began to unlace his boots and Brad noticed how sluggish his movements had become. He couldn’t imagine the toll this was taking on Nate and wished there was some way he could make it just a little easier.

Brad helped Nate climb into the rack, mindful of where his hands were at all times. Nate settled back against the pillow and flung an arm over his eyes. Brad switched off the light and started to leave.

“How do you do it?” Nate asked. The raw pain in his voice made Brad’s chest ache.

“Do what?”

“Live in such a dark, distrustful, hate-filled world.” Nate’s voice was rough with fatigue and something else. “My last memory was of a world where good people were fighting and dying for a good cause. Our enemy was clearly identified and our moral imperative was explicit.”

Brad swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Nate seemed so lost and so small.

“Not all that much has changed, Nate,” he said carefully. “Except that now we know they’re lying to us.”

“So cynical,” Nate whispered.

“There are good things, too. Some things are pretty fucking wonderful. I’ll make sure to show them to you, so you can see the good and not just the bad. There _are_ a few people still worth knowing.”

Nate took his arm from his eyes, giving Brad an inscrutable look. “I know there’s at least one.”

Brad kept his face impassive. He wasn’t sure what Nate meant by that cryptic remark, but the way Nate was looking at him made Brad feel things he wasn’t ready to name.

“Get some sleep, sir. You’ll feel better when you’re rested.”


	3. Chapter 3

**  
_The Defender’s mansion on the outskirts of Los Angeles is filled with the chaos of conquering heroes returning home…_   
**

Nate spun in slow circles through the great room of the mansion that served as headquarters for the Defenders. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was high ceilinged and spacious, painted and decorated in warm, masculine colors. It was a far cry from the cold and Spartan laboratory and dorm room in which he’d spent all of his between-mission time.

“Mr. Patterson pays for this?” he asked incredulously. “And he funds all of your technology and research and weapons too?”

“Fuck yeah, he does,” Ray said enthusiastically. “We’re badass superheroes. It’s hard work saving the world from retarded evil bad guys. We gotta be taken care of or we might try to take over the world ourselves. Patterson’s good about givin’ us everything we need. Except pussy.”

“Ray,” Brad said warningly.

“Aren’t any of the Defenders women?” Nate asked. He wondered what rules the Defenders had for fraternization.

“Nah, not right now,” Ray answered. “We had a couple awhile back but they moved on to other teams. We work better with just dudes, anyway. The chicks get in the way, always trying to get the Ray-Ray love.”

Walt snorted and Brad snapped, “Ray, shut the fuck up.”

“Brad, I thought you said it wasn’t a good idea to speak disparagingly about the female superheroes?” Nate asked. Ray’s disrespectful way of discussing women confused him.

Before Brad could answer, Ray threw an arm around Nate’s shoulders. “Brad’s right, those are some scary chicks. The girl superheroes we know are all mutants. Jean Gray, she’s telepathic and telekinetic. She’ll read your mind to find out which body part you value the most, and then use her brain to rip it off of you and beat you to death with it. And Ororo? She’s an elemental mutant, like Iceman. She controls the weather the way he controls water molecules. If you ever question her abilities, she’ll zap you with a bolt of lightning.”

“That’s amazing,” Nate said honestly, even as he shrugged Ray’s arm from his shoulders.

“It’s sexy as hell, watching a woman kick bad-guy ass.” Ray smiled conspiratorially. “Just never forget, they can and they will kick good-guy ass if they feel disrespected.”

Nate glanced in Brad’s direction and was disappointed to see his back was turned. He was starting to suspect that Brad’s gifts were even more extraordinary than they initially seemed. Ray’s words were taunting but something in his tone made Nate think he was in awe of Brad. Nate could certainly relate.

Ray seemed to have warmed up to his topic. He flopped down onto a comfortable looking sofa as he kept talking. “Then there’s Mystique. She’s a lying, cheating, manipulative, back-stabbing, shape-shifting mutant bitch who turned Brad’s heart into a permanent block of ice.”

“Ray, shut the fuck up,” Brad said with ferocity from across the room.

Nate’s eyes snapped to Brad’s face. His expression was shuttered and immobile but something in his eyes looked discomfited. Nate’s heart broke a little.

“Hey, gents,” a voice with a smooth drawl came from the landing on the second floor. “I thought I heard Ray’s insane ramblings.”

Nate watched a man of medium height, dark blond hair, strong features, and a boxer’s nose, walk to the top of the winding staircase. His build was stocky and he carried himself with a confident military bearing.

“I speak only the truth,” Ray said in mock outrage.

The newcomer came down the stairs and greeted Walt with a handshake. “Rudy sent your new arrows with me. I put some in your rooms. Try them out, first chance you get.”

“Thanks, Gunny.” Walt smiled. “I’ll go take a look at them now.” He bounded up the staircase and disappeared.

“Iceman, heard you had a successful fishing trip,” Gunny said, shaking Brad’s hand now.

“Good to see you again, Mike,” Brad said, respect evident in his tone. He gestured in Nate’s direction. “This is your new charge; Lt. Nate Fick.”

Gunny crossed to Nate, stood at attention and saluted.

Nate was so surprised by the unexpected action; he returned the salute before he realized what he was doing.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Gunny said.

“Nate, this is Gunnery Sgt. Mike Wynn, USMC, retired,” Brad said.

Nate put his hand out for Mike to shake, unsurprisingly comforted by the presence of another Marine. “Please, just call me Nate. And the honor is mine, Gunnery Sergeant.”

His handshake was firm. “Alright, Nate,” Mike said with a warm smile. “And you can call me Gunny, or just Mike. Rudy said Patterson warned you I’d be here?”

“He did,” Brad answered before Nate could. “The LT’s not happy about the idea of a babysitter.”

“I’m just here to make sure you have what you need, to answer questions, and to keep you from getting damaged because you don’t know any better,” Mike explained, waving a hand negligently. “You’re encouraged to get out and explore.”

Nate couldn’t help but glance over at Brad but his expression was unreadable. Nate felt as though custody of him was being handed over and he wasn’t particularly happy about it.

“Cool,” Ray said, springing up from the sofa, “I know this great titty bar down by LAX. You can come too, Brad. Maybe you’ll finally get over that fucked up shit with Mystique.”

Nate saw Brad clench his jaw, only because he was watching for it. His stomach did a slow roll at his realization.

“Nighthawk, don’t you have an after-action to write?” Gunny asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Without waiting for Ray to answer he said, “I suggest you get to it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Ray said, gesticulating wildly as he climbed the stairs. “But I’m telling you, Brad; Mystique ain’t worth it. You were a lot less pissy when you were fucking Angel, anyway.”

Nate was relieved when Ray left. He’d had his fill of revelations and disappointment for the day.

Turning back, Mike said, “They put you on the third floor, Nate. I thought that was strange at first, since Brad’s usually the only one up there, but now it makes sense.”

“I’ve got an after-action to write, too,” Brad said, shifting his weight as though he were going to leave.

“You can hang on to your manners long enough to help your new friend get settled, Iceman,” Mike said in tone that brooked no argument.

“But, Gunny, you’re …” Brad started.

“I didn’t fish him out of the ocean,” Mike cut him off.

Nate looked back and forth between the two men, realizing there was something being said that he didn’t understand. He was relieved when Brad relented.

“Come on, then,” Brad said, leading them up three floors of winding staircase.

Nate had never seen a house this large. The second floor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions from the top of the stairs. Brad led them further up. When they reached the third floor, Brad stopped in front of the first door on the landing.

“Both of these doors are to your rooms,” he gestured toward a second door further down the hall, “but they also connect on the inside.” He pushed open the double wooden doors and stepped inside.

The room took Nate’s breath away. It was a huge sitting room containing comfortable looking furniture, what Brad had explained was a television, and something Nate used to know as a hi-fi – but Brad said was now just called a stereo. There was a round table with several chairs, and in the corner was a desk. On the desk sat one of the small portable computing devices that Brad called a laptop. Nate ran a hand over the back of his neck, not sure what to do with this sense of overwhelm.

“This is the bedroom, obviously,” Brad said, from the connecting doorway, “and the bathroom is through here, too.”

As soon as Nate reached the doorway, Brad stepped away toward the center of the sitting room. Nate looked around the bedroom and knew he was gaping. He couldn’t get his mouth to close. The bed was the size of a small ship and looked to be made of a rich, dark wood. Everything was decorated in warm, masculine earth tones. Nate immediately felt comfortable. It also felt entirely too lavish.

“This is too much space,” Nate said, gesturing around the two rooms.

“We all say that at first,” Brad said, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “But we live here and work out of here. We all need somewhere to spread out and enjoy our down time. Not all of our missions are as easy as fishing you out of the ocean. If I end up sleeping for two days straight afterward, it needs to be somewhere comfortable.”

“I don’t even have clothes or any possessions,” Nate said. The feeling of overwhelm tightened his chest. He had no idea where to start.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mike said, taking something from his back pocket and handing it to Nate. “You have a California driver’s license – I don’t know if Patterson pulled strings or hacked the DMV and I don’t want to know, your social security card has been reprinted, and Patterson arranged for you to have a couple of credit cards. There’s also some cash in there.”

Nate was about to protest vehemently when Mike held up a hand. “You are now employed by Bryan Patterson. Your job is to get caught up with the rest of the world. After that, if you want back into the Corps or you want to join the Defenders, it’ll be your choice. Either way, though, you’ll start earning your keep.”

“Patterson can afford it, Nate,” Brad said quietly. “You’re Captain America, for chrissake. It’s the least you’re owed.”

“So, get settled in here,” Mike said, “and maybe tomorrow Brad can take you shopping for clothes. Teach you how to download music on iTunes. Get you your own Netflix account.”

“I don’t understand half of what you said, but I have to start figuring it out, I guess,” Nate said with a laugh. Mike chuckled. When Nate turned to look at Brad, his own smile fell. Brad didn’t look happy with any of this. Nate didn’t like feeling like a burden and decided he was going to figure this shit out on his own, just as fast as he was able.

“Just don’t try to drive a car until I’ve had a chance to give you a few lessons,” Brad said, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “The mechanics haven’t changed much, but you missed the introduction of the American muscle car, so you have no idea what you’re in for these days.”

Brad’s mercurial moods confused the hell out of Nate. He didn’t like being confused any more than he liked feeing like a burden.

“Brad!” a voice cried from one of the lower floors. “Brad, are you guys up there? Is he here? Is he up there with you?”

The sound of feet thundering up the stairs carried to them.

Brad looked up at the ceiling, tension flooding his large frame. “Fuck. Does he always have to be so belt-fed?”

Mike smothered a laugh, shaking his head at Brad.

A man appeared in the doorway, dressed in costume. He was of medium height and build with cropped blond hair and crazy eyes. Nate suddenly understood Brad’s tension. Then Nate realized what the man was wearing. His own eyes widened.

“Is that him? Is that Captain America?” the man asked, his eyes running wildly over Nate.

“Dave, this is Lt. Nate Fick, Code Name: Captain America,” Brad said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Nate, this is Dave McGraw. Code Name: U.S. Agent.”

McGraw came into the room and grabbed Nate’s hand, pumping it vigorously. “You have no idea how big an honor this is. This is better than when I worked with Edwin Cord. It’s more exciting than when Bryan requested that I join the Defenders. Captain America! You were instrumental in destroying all those damn, dirty Nazis and stinking Japs.”

Nate tried to pull his hand back without making a scene. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGraw.” He was aware of Brad taking two steps closer.

“Please, call me Dave,” McGraw said, leaning into Nate’s space. “We’re going to be partners, after all.”

“Partners?” Nate asked, concern growing. “Really?” He took a step backward but McGraw stepped forward. Brad was suddenly standing at Nate’s shoulder and his presence was reassuring.

“Of course!” McGraw said. “Captain America and U.S. Agent; we’re the perfect match.”

“Dave, can I ask you… it’s just that your costume resembles one of my prototype uniforms,” Nate said, striving to sound friendly and not disturbed.

“It is,” McGraw said with a wide smile. His eyes shifted wildly in his head. “They wouldn’t let me copy your uniform, even though you were MIA. I wanted to do that in your honor, but they said no. So instead, I used one of the designs you didn’t go with.”

Nate remembered it. He’d rejected it because it seemed a little too sinister. Looking at McGraw, he realized he’d been right. The costume was black instead of blue and the alignment of the stars and stripes just felt – _wrong_.

“Do you carry a shield, too?” Nate asked, dread slinking its way up his spine.

“Absolutely!” McGraw cried. “Bryan made me an Adamantium shield just like yours … except in the black and red colors.” He started to reach for Nate’s arm.

Two things happened at once; Nate took a step backward and collided with the solid wall of Brad’s body at the same time Brad’s hand came down on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate froze. He hadn’t realized Brad was so close.

“Dave, the LT needs to rest,” Brad said firmly, in a tone even Nate wouldn’t challenge. “He literally just got here and he needs time to settle in. Go do your after-action before Rudy has to call and track it down.”

“Sure, no problem, Brad,” McGraw said. He shuffled toward the door but his eyes never left Nate. “We’ll get caught up later, Nate; when you’ve had time to rest.”

He turned to go and Nate let himself relax slightly. When he reached the door, McGraw suddenly turned back. Brad’s hand tightened on Nate’s shoulder.

“Hey, now that you’re back,” McGraw said, “maybe we should wear matching blue uniforms!”

“Dave, get the fuck out of here and finish the paperwork for your mission,” Brad snapped, clearly issuing an order.

Nate was amazed that the man didn’t realize he was in charge of all of these people.

“I’m going, Brad,” McGraw said, quickly stepping through the door. “See ya, Nate.”

“Who the fuck was that and why the fuck was he wearing one of my cast-off uniforms?” Nate asked when he could finally relax.

Mike laughed outwardly. Brad gave Nate’s shoulder a final squeeze and stepped away. Nate immediately missed the reassuring contact.

“Dave is Captain America’s biggest fan,” Brad said. “I think it’s safe to say he’s obsessed. He belongs in a rubber tent, but he’s got superpowers, so Patterson wants to keep him close to keep an eye on him.”

“We all know he’s tried to _be_ Captain America,” Mike said, giving Brad a hard look. “I just hope he doesn’t start trying to be _Nate_.”

“I agree, Gunny,” Brad replied. “’Cause if I end up having to kill him, Patterson’s going to be unhappy with me.”

Nate didn’t think Brad was making a joke.


	4. Chapter 4

**_The next morning, Iceman explains the American system of retail sales to Captain America; by taking him shopping…_ **

They were at the Century City Mall. Brad had been afraid the Beverly Center would just be too much for Nate.

He’d asked Brad to take him to _Woolworths_ for chrissake. _Woolworths._ Brad had thought about taking him to Wal-Mart but then Ray had talked and that was about all Brad could take of that.

Nate had been to a Macy’s before but a Macy’s and a Nordstrom’s in one location, along with all the boutique shops, had him staring, wide-eyed as they walked. The innocent delight on his face had Brad trying to think of things to surprise him with.

If he were honest, things had gotten awkward early on when Nate had experienced sensory overload trying to buy skivvies. As if Hanes and Fruit of the Loom weren’t enough to contend with, there were the designer brands; 2xist, Calvin Klein, C-in2, Diesel, Hugo Boss. The question of silk over cotton became too much. Brad finally staged an intervention when Nate showed signs of leaning toward boxers. That round, firm ass was _not_ going to be encased in nasty, shapeless boxers. That was a no go. It was surprisingly easy to persuade Nate to go with briefs and boxer briefs. He was surprisingly amenable to colors, too.

Brad cut that line of thinking right the fuck off. He had no business thinking about Nate in nothing but his skivvies. Nate considered him a friend and it was all kinds of wrong to be having lascivious thoughts about him.

As much as Brad hated to admit it, they occasionally needed to wear suits. He’d just never seen anyone look quite as good in one as Nate did. Okay, maybe Rudy. But Rudy didn’t have that thick, dark blond hair, smooth pale skin and green eyes that could make Brad forget his name. Both of them.

Brad’s favorite part of the day was buying jeans. He’d thought it was cute, the way Nate kept calling them _dungarees._ He’d come out of the dressing room barefoot and shirtless, asking Brad’s opinion on the fit. It had been all Brad could do not to shove him back inside, follow him in, and lock the door behind them.

Along the way, Brad managed to keep it together long enough to make sure Nate understood modern commerce. It wasn’t easy. Nate was trying to wrap his head around consumerism. After all, he’d gone to sleep a few days ago during rationing. Brad had difficulty explaining to him why cash was a nuisance; debit card was king. He didn’t really need a checkbook for much, between the debit card and internet bill paying – and it wasn’t as if superheroes needed much beyond what was provided for them. Credit cards - or charge cards - as Nate kept calling them, were great for large purchases, but don’t go overboard.

The food court proved to be Nate’s undoing. He stood frozen in indecision, unable to decide between a sandwich, greasy pizza or slimy Chinese. Brad dragged him upstairs to The Pink Taco so they could sit down and rest. Besides, Nate looked like he could use a margarita.

Brad was so used to them now, that he didn’t notice the rotating display of advertising posters. Nate’s attention, however, was captured. Brad backtracked to see what he was looking at and clenched his jaw when it registered.

It was an ad campaign Brad had seen before and had learned to ignore. An innocent looking and attractive woman was transitioning into an evil looking creature. The heading read, ‘Do You Know Who Your Neighbors Are’. The bottom of the poster encouraged people to contact their legislators and demand passage of the Mutant Registration Act.

“Are they talking about you, Brad?  About your kind?” Nate asked, frowning.

Brad made a silencing gesture as subtly as he could. “Not here,” he said quietly, nudging Nate to move forward again.

“Do people actually believe mutants are evil?” Nate asked in hiss.

“Some do. Some fear us. Most just don’t understand.” Brad glanced around to make sure no one was paying them any unusual attention.

“But, mutants are superheroes,” Nate said, also glancing around. “You’re the good guys. You have gifts. You’re special.”

“Mutants are just people,” Brad struggled to explain. “Like all people, some are good, some aren’t.”

Nate fell silent as they walked and Brad could almost hear him think. Finally, he spoke, “Are you in danger for what you are?”

“Sometimes,” Brad admitted. “Usually, I just get sick of trying to justify my existence to ignorant sheep who think only what someone else frightens them into thinking.”

“But you can’t help being born a mutant.” Nate said this with a quiet conviction and stared hard at Brad as they walked.

He was finally able to return Nate’s gaze. “I’m different, and that makes people afraid.”

Brad held the restaurant door open. As Nate passed through, deliberately brushing against the length of Brad’s body, he quietly said, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Something loosened in Brad’s chest. He hadn’t realized Nate’s acceptance of him mattered so much.

When they were seated and the hostess with the too-bright smile had left them, Nate leaned across the table and hissed, “Brad, they’re selling women’s panties behind the cash register!”

“Yep,” Brad replied without looking up from the menu, “it’s called merchandising.”

“Are the girls who are working here _wearing_ the panties?” Nate asked, glancing around disbelievingly at the very young female staff.

Brad did look up at that. “I don’t know. Why? Do you want to find out?” That idea made Brad regret coming here.

“No. _No!_ ” Nate said, furrowing his brow. He blushed slightly, and Brad liked the look of it on him. He just didn’t like the cause.

“Most of them are watching us pretty closely,” Brad observed. “I’m sure a few of them would let you look.”

“No,” Nate said with finality, snapping his menu open and refusing to meet Brad’s eyes. They sat in silence for several tense minutes before Nate muttered darkly, “I don’t even recognize anything on the menu.”

Brad sighed and wondered if they shouldn’t have gone to Houston’s instead. Steak wasn’t quite so complicated. He stood and switched chairs so that he was sitting next to Nate instead of across from him. Nate looked at him in surprise.

“It’s just anglicized Mexican food with a modern California twist,” Brad said quietly. He carefully explained the unfamiliar terms on the menu. He stalled the waitress by having her bring them margaritas but he still had to send her away twice before they were ready to order.

All that for two orders of shrimp soft tacos.

Brad decided to be honest with himself and admit that he liked sitting close to Nate, bumping knees with him beneath the table.

It was a pleasant meal after that. Brad quizzed Nate to make sure he’d be able to manage the fuck-ton of money he’d be making as a Defender. It was a lot of information to have to absorb in half a day but Nate wasn’t just smart, he was fucking _brilliant_ , Brad realized. As long as Brad gave his explanations context, as long as he told Nate the _why_ of a thing, Nate understood and retained the information.

Brad liked to think he was a pretty smart man. He wasn’t overly educated but he read a lot and made a point of knowing about the things he liked; electronics, warfare, and anything mechanical, preferably with an internal combustion engine. Nate astounded Brad with his intellect and insight. He had to work to keep up. It was a challenge and it felt good.

It was blessedly quiet when they returned to the mansion. Mike was there and told them Ray was with Walt down in the firing range. Walt was practicing with the Pym particle arrows that Patterson had sent. Brad wasn’t sure why Ray was with him but at least that meant he wasn’t in the main house bothering them. Poke was still in D.C. and Eric had the misfortune of having to drag McGraw to Malibu for a face-to-face with Patterson.

“Walt rigged a device to help speed along Nate’s assimilation,” Mike said. “I put it on the desk in his room. Walt said you’d know how to sync it to the server and load the lesson you’re working on.”

Brad thanked him and they climbed the stairs, both heavily laden with all of Nate’s purchases.

“Now ladies, don’t forget,” Mike called after them, “supper’s in a couple of hours, so don’t get distracted braidin’ each other’s hair and puttin’ on make-up.”

“Actually, Nate needs his legs waxed and my toenails need a touch up,” Brad called back at Mike. Sometimes, increasing the stakes was more effective than denials or return fire.

“Why do I need wax on my legs?” Nate asked as they rounded the stairs to the third floor.

Brad snorted his laugh. “It’s a girl’s grooming thing, you _really_ don’t want to know.”

Nate nodded his understanding. “Sarcasm,” he murmured.

Brad was helping Nate sort and store his purchases. He left Nate to put the more personal items in the bureau, he’d stick to hanging clothes in the closet.

“Would you like a soda?” he asked, crossing to the hidden fridge in Nate’s sitting room.

“Soda?” Nate asked and Brad ignored the stack of boxer-briefs in his hand.

“Soda-pop? Coke, Pepsi, 7-up?”

“Oh, sure.” Nate’s features smoothed as understanding dawned. “Any one of those is fine.”

Brad retrieved a couple of plastic bottles and handed one to Nate. He watched as Nate’s expression registered surprise.

“It’s cold,” he said, wrapping both hands around the bottle. “I thought you were going downstairs. Where did you get this?”

“You’ve got a fridge in your room,” Brad said. “We all have one.”

“A fridge?” Nate’s brows lifted in curiosity. “What’s a fridge?”

Brad crossed back to the wood paneled cabinet. He opened the lower door, revealing the drink bottles and assorted snack foods. “A refrigerator.” Brad searched his memory for different words. “An ice box.” he couldn’t help his smile. “You _do_ know they don’t use ice anymore, right? They keep contents cold with electrical stimulation of a chemical refrigerant.”

Nate gave an irritated look and Brad’s smile widened. “I know they don’t use ice anymore. I just didn’t know that was there. I thought maybe you’d …” he trailed off and made a gesture with his free hand. “I don’t know the extent of your skills; the kinds of things you can do.”

“While slowing the water molecules in carbonated beverages in order to lower their temperature is, in fact, something I am capable of, I prefer not to waste the energy when there’s a fridge nearby.”

“Roger that,” Nate said, ducking his head.

If Brad didn’t know better, he’d think Nate was embarrassed.

When Nate’s purchases were stowed, they settled at the small desk. Nate picked up the concept of the internet pretty quickly. Brad had him Google himself and watched in silent delight as his jaw dropped at the responses.

“This conspiracy theory that I was abducted by aliens is patently ridiculous,” Nate said, gesturing at the screen.

“Most of them are,” Brad concurred.

He taught Nate the wonders of the iPod, including how not to pay for his music. Nate followed the lesson but insisted on legally purchasing all of his music. Brad pretended to consider this ludicrous.

“Big band?” Brad lifted one eyebrow, expressing his doubt.

“Julie London has … had a great voice.”

“Thirty years later she made a pretty hot nurse, anyway. Maybe I should expose you to Elvis sooner rather than later.”

“Who’s Elvis?”

“A one man musical and cultural revolution.”

Nate ran a palm across his forehead. “Can we save the revolution for tomorrow?”

Brad grinned and settled back in his chair. “Sure. What _would_ you like to learn about?”

Nate started to speak but stopped abruptly. Brad stayed silent, giving him time. It concerned him slightly, that Nate seemed unable to meet his eyes.

“Can I ask you about something Dave McGraw said yesterday?” Nate finally asked.

Brad groaned. “You realize that most of what comes out of his mouth is the result of insanity, don’t you?”

Nate huffed a laugh. He took a drink of soda and pulled a face. “Ugh. I let it sit too long.”

“Here,” Brad gestured with his fingers for Nate to hand over the bottle. He focused energy into his hand and into his lungs. He felt the liquid already beginning to cool but he sped the process, making a show of it, with a gentle breath of air across the top of the bottle.

Brad handed the chilled beverage back to Nate.

“That’s amazing,” he said, smiling beatifically after he’d taken a drink.

Brad felt as though a hand was slowly constricting his heart. He wondered if Nate’s smiles were always going to have that effect on him.

Clearing his throat and shifting in his chair, Brad asked, “You had a question about McGraw’s psychotic ramblings?”

Nate’s expression grew serious. “He made a remark about the Nazis and the Japanese.”

“Fuckin’ Dave,” Brad muttered. “The line about ‘damn dirty Nazis and stinking Japs’?”

Nate nodded.

“Racial epithets are complex and complicated. As superheroes, it’s better if we don’t use them, even in jest.” Brad paused to consider. “Although, you’ll find that doesn’t stop Ray, let alone McGraw.”

“I prefer not to make those types of things a part of my vocabulary.  I got enough of that in the Marine Corps.” Nate said. “But I noticed two things today. First, it’s acceptable to use ‘Nazi’ as an insult, even if someone isn’t of German descent. Second, America has open trade with Japan now, doesn’t it?”

That last brought Brad up short. When Nate had gone MIA, it had only been three and a half years since Pearl Harbor. Toyotas and Hondas lining the streets of Los Angeles must have been a rude shock to his system.

Brad wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “Nazis were a social group. Membership was chosen. They knew what they were doing was wrong. It wasn’t a circumstance of birth that couldn’t be altered. I think that’s why it’s an acceptable insult.”

“I understand, Brad,” Nate interrupted. “I just wanted to confirm that I need to stop thinking of the Japanese as the enemy. It’s difficult; to have to completely reverse my world view in a matter of days. Some of what they did to our soldiers wasn’t pleasant.”

Brad sighed. “You’re aware of what our government was doing to American citizens of Japanese descent, aren’t you?” he asked gently. “We like to act self-righteous, but there were times we were no better than our enemies.”

“I was completely opposed to the internment camps,” Nate said viciously. “There was nothing justifiable about that. My opinion was the minority, though. People should be judged by their actions, not the color of their skin or the location of their birth. We should view everyone as individuals, responsible for their own choices. We shouldn’t be persecuting entire groups of people, we should be holding guilty individuals accountable.”

Brad watched Nate closely as he gave his impassioned speech. His eyes were bright with emotion. He was so emphatic, color rose on his cheeks. He used his hands as he spoke, gesturing sharply and decisively. Brad swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“You’re a real mensch, Nate,” Brad said, trying not to let his awe color his voice. “Were you always such a mensch?”

“A mensch?” Nate asked, confusion and curiosity warring on his face.

“Google it,” Brad said with a grin.

He watched Nate’s face as he pulled up a result and read it. Brad didn’t see the smile he’d expected.

“Is being a mensch good or bad?” Nate asked.

It was Brad’s turn to be confused. “It’s a good thing. Why, what definition did you find?” he started to reach for the laptop.

“I can’t always tell with you,” Nate said and Brad stopped in surprise.

“Can’t always tell what?”

“I haven’t known you very long but I’ve figured out you only have two gears.” Nate paused and Brad motioned for him to continue. “Straight forward and direct or sarcastic. And I can’t read your expressions so I’m not always sure which is which.”

“I assure you, Nate,” Brad said quietly, “there is nothing about you that is deserving of sarcasm.”

Nate studied Brad intently. It was all he could do not to look away from those intense green eyes.

“In that case,” Nate said finally, “thank you.”

Their conversation brought something to the front of Brad’s mind that he’d been trying to ignore. He’d planned on letting Nate work chronologically through all the information he needed to assimilate. He realized that, as bright as Nate was, it was going take some time. Nate was going to be venturing out in the world, interacting with people, before he accessed information on the twenty-first century. Brad realized he was going to be missing a very large, very important point of reference.

“I feel like there’s something you need to know,” Brad blurted. “There was an event, ten years ago, that informs everyone’s thoughts, emotions and opinions. It’s safe to say it informs the lives of everyone in this country but I think it also affects the entire world.”

“I’m not going to like this story, am I?” Nate asked darkly.

Brad took a fortifying breath. “No. You’re not. I know that a part of you is still reeling from the bombing of Pearl Harbor but what happened in New York is just as bad.”

He closed Nate’s laptop, vowing to spare him the images until a later time. The story alone was going to be a blow.

Brad realized that, when Nate had gone missing, the New York skyline had been defined by the Empire State Building. He’d never known the city with its towers. Brad painted that picture for him, so that Nate would understand how a city could be physically scarred. He told the story of four airplanes and the fall of two towers. Brad told of heroes, on the ground and in the air, who died trying to save others. When he ran out of facts and figures, he told the story of his own reactions; how helpless he’d felt, being a continent away and only able to assist in the aftermath.

Halfway through the story, Nate crossed his arms on the desk and lowered his head to rest on them. He didn’t look up and he didn’t ask questions. Brad’s throat was sore and his voice was rough when he finally ran out of things to say. The telling hurt but he was glad he’d told Nate this way, instead of casually letting him encounter the information while he was playing catch-up. It seemed kinder this way.

Nate’s continued silence unnerved Brad. He had no idea what to do.

“Nate,” he started hesitantly.

“So much hate and pain,” Nate murmured, his tone sounded frustrated and disappointed.

That response brought Brad to his knees. Unlike so many others, Nate didn’t spew vitriol and vengeance. Instead, he empathized with those who were lost and those who had loved them.

Brad realized that he needed Nate to get past this and to find things about this century, this world, that he liked. He needed Nate happy. He needed him to decide to stay and become a Defender permanently.

“They’re going to serve supper in a about an hour,” Brad said quietly. He resisted the urge to run a hand over Nate’s hair. He didn’t know if his comfort would be welcome. Instead, he cupped his hands together and began to draw on the water vapor that was all around them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re exhausted so they won’t bother you. Join us if you can, whenever you’re ready. Take whatever time you need.”

He focused on drawing molecules from the air. The dry air of Los Angeles didn’t give him much to work with. Brad drew the moisture from his own body, collecting it in his palms, shaping it as he chilled it. When he was done, he stood to go.

On the desk, beside Nate’s folded arms, Brad set the small ice sculpture he’d formed. It was a temporary thing; it would melt quickly in the warmth of the L.A. summer. Still, he hoped it brought Nate some measure of comfort.

Brad turned and left Nate’s room, leaving behind the icy shape of an eagle, a globe and an anchor.


	5. Chapter 5

**  
_Several days pass quietly as Captain America quickly catches up on sixty-six years of history and Brad rarely leaves his side…_   
**

Nate was immersed in the early 1960’s. He’d made it through the remainder of the 1940’s and all of the 1950’s in just a few days. This technology was beyond anything he could have imagined.

The device he used curled over both ears. It didn’t direct sound into his ear canals, so much as it sent impulses through his auditory conduction system. Nate could still hear the sounds in the room around him. The device hugged the base of his skull and several wire sensors extended to rest at strategic positions. Each sensor stimulated a portion of his brain, making his learning and retention exponentially greater. The device was synced to his laptop and controlled the images that scrolled before him. Walt had explained that his conscious mind was aware of the images he was seeing, but his sub-conscious was gathering even greater amounts of information from the data embedded in the images.

Brad had explained how the device mined the internet for images and information, making sure everything was authentic and not Photo Shopped. Nate didn’t understand what that meant but he was assured that someday soon, he would.

The first time Nate had used the technology, he’d been frightened by just how powerful it was. He could think of any number of sinister uses for it. Brad had agreed, to Nate’s surprise.

“Aspects of this technology have been made available to the public and to the military,” Brad had explained. “But no one outside of Patterson Industries and the Defenders knows all the details. Bryan trusts us not to use it for mind control or brainwashing.”

“Do you trust Bryan not to use it for those reasons?” Nate had asked.

“Absolutely,” Brad had replied without hesitation. “He talks a lot of shit but when it’s mattered, he’s always had our backs and he’s never lied.”

Nate was learning that those two things were immensely important to Brad. He didn’t trust easily. When he did, it was nearly unshakable. Nate was coming to suspect that Brad’s trust had been betrayed in a devastating manner but he was afraid of Brad’s reaction if he pressed for more information.

Now, Nate sat eagerly learning about what was called ‘The Bay of Pigs’. He was vaguely aware of Brad, seated on the sofa behind him, tinkering with his watch. That’s what Brad did while Nate was learning; he sat close by and quietly worked away on … whatever. He made sure Nate stopped to eat and drink and he’d answer any questions Nate had for him.

“So this must be Captain America,” Nate heard an unfamiliar voice say from the doorway. He tugged off the device so he could give his attention to the newcomer. The device and the laptop automatically paused.

“Poke,” Brad greeted, one side of his mouth lifting in a friendly grin, “they finally tossed your sorry ass out of D.C.?”

“The white man don’t wanna be told ‘no’ when he gets it in his head to start keepin’ his lists, just before he launches his genocide.”

“If you said it like that, I imagine they were especially annoyed.” Brad tipped his head in Nate’s direction. “Lt. Nate Fick, sometimes known as Captain America. Nate, this is Tony Espera. Remember I told you about him? He goes by Poke, but his Code Name is Beast.”

Poke crossed the room to shake Nate’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. Iceman treatin’ you okay?”

“Everyone has been extraordinarily kind and helpful,” Nate replied.

“Kind and helpful?” Poke echoed, giving Brad a pointed look. “That don’t sound like the Iceman.”

“If I wasn’t constantly surrounded by ignorant, whiskey-tango, incompetent fuck-ups, I wouldn’t be living in a constant state of uncooperative annoyance,” Brad said, not looking up from his watch.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Poke directed this to Nate. “Someone who lives up to Brad’s standards. You must be somethin’ else, sir. No wonder the government wants you back so bad.”

“Are they still rattling their sabers?” Brad asked.

“Patterson’s got their shorts all knotted up ‘cause he ain’t lettin’ ‘em anywhere near him. In fact, when The Committee was done with me, they called him to appear. He suspects they’re gonna try to use the Superhuman Registration Act to try to end run him to get their hands on the LT here.”

“They’re back to wanting to register superheroes as well as mutants?” Brad asked.

Poke shrugged. “Like Patterson said, not all mutants become superheroes. If they ain’t superheroes, can’t get ‘em on the list. Make all the mutants register as mutants, superhero or not, and it makes ‘em easier to find when you go to wipe ‘em out. It’s how they did my people.”

“What disenfranchised group are you throwing in with now?” Brad asked, grinning despite his disdainful tone. “You’re not appropriating _my_ people, are you?”

“My Native-American peoples, bro,” Poke said, as if it should be obvious. “First, the white man put us on a list so they knew how many of us they got to kill. Then, they put us all on pieces of land the size of postage stamps and said we couldn’t leave. When they wanted the land back, they sent us on a forced-march to the shitty land they didn’t want no more. When that wasn’t fun anymore, they gave us diseased blankets. My people are strong, though. We opened up casinos and started takin’ all the white man’s money.”

“Does this mean I can skip this part of the history lesson, now?” Nate asked, thoroughly amused by Poke’s diatribe.

“Absolutely, sir,” Poke answered. “And if you need me to tell you the truth about anything else the white man has done to keep the colored man down, I’m at your service.”

“When you say colored man, do you mean one that grows a blue fur coat and calls it a superpower?” Nate asked, recalling what Brad had told him about Beast’s mutation and his control over it.

“Oh, this one’s got some spirit, Brad,” Poke said, smiling. “No wonder you like him.”

“Brad doesn’t like me,” Nate said, wishing it didn’t ring so true. “He hangs around me strictly for the entertainment value. The fact that I don’t get any of the jokes is apparently funnier than the jokes themselves.”

“Your boy always do you like that, bro?” Poke laughed at Brad.

“I fished him out of the freezing ocean and he showed his undying gratitude by waking up and immediately accusing me of being a Nazi,” Brad said, feigning distraction.

“He accused your Hebrew ass of bein’ a Nazi?” Poke asked, incredulous.

“In my defense,” Nate interjected, gesturing in Brad’s direction, “I offer exhibit A.”

“He’s got you there, Brad,” Poke said.

Before anyone could form a reply, an electronic tone sounded throughout the mansion. To Nate, it seemed to be an alarm of some sort. He leapt from his chair and glanced around for a threat.

Across the room, the darkened television turned itself on. The black screen of Brad’s portable telephone – cell phone, he called it – flashed to life. Nate realized the laptop screen was flickering behind him.

All at once, the devices filled with the image of Rudy Reyes.

“Defenders,” he addressed them, “this is an emergency call to arms. There is an incident occurring at Fifth and Flower, in downtown Los Angeles. Iron Man is unavailable, having been detained by The Committee in Washington D.C.”

Brad stood from the couch and asked, “What’s the sit-rep, Rudy?”

“Multiple explosions at street level, several injured. Explosive ordinance seemed to originate from a nearby office tower,” Rudy summarized. “Approach with caution, Defenders. Stop the threat and detain any suspicious persons. Most importantly gentlemen, come home safe.”

“We’re oscar-mike in ten mikes,” Brad said.

On screen, Rudy nodded his understanding. “Advise me when the situation is contained. Good luck, Iceman.”

The screen went dark.

Nate heard feet pounding up the staircase. Mike appeared, clutching his cell phone. “Poke, I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just this afternoon,” Poke replied.

“Is Beast responding as a Defender?” Gunny asked.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ miss it.”

“Mike, what about …” Brad trailed off with a nod in Nate’s direction.

“I got it, Iceman,” Gunny stated firmly. “I’m here to watch over him.”

Nate watched Brad’s features tighten. He stared hard at Mike for several long moments before he nodded in acknowledgement.

Gunny turned to Nate. “Care to go watch the guys step off? It’ll give you an idea of what’ll be going on when you’re active again.”

“Yes,” Nate said eagerly.

Brad was the first one through the door and down the stairs. Poke followed right on his six, Mike and Nate bringing up the rear.

“Are Colossus and U.S. Agent here?” Brad asked over his shoulder.

“Affirmative,” Mike shouted in reply.

“They might as well go, too, since we don’t know what we’re going up against.”

As they reached the cavernous kitchen, Ray and Walt entered through a second door.

“Everyone else should already be down below,” Walt answered Brad’s unasked question.

They all crowded into a large elevator that Nate hadn’t known was at the far end of the kitchen.

“How we getting there, Iceman?” Ray asked when the elevator doors closed.

“We’ve got some ground to cover,” Brad answered. “I’ll create an ice slide. The rest of you navigate it on Hawkeye’s SkyCycles.”

“Roger that,” Walt – no, Hawkeye - replied.

“Mind if I fly?” Ray asked.

“As long as you can keep up, Nighthawk.” Brad said.

“Jet powered wing system,” Nighthawk retorted. “Let’s see if you guys can keep up with me.”

The elevator doors opened and Nate’s mouth hung open at the sight of what could only be described as an underground superhero central command.

Waiting for them were Eric Kocher – Brad called him Colossus – and U.S. Agent. Colossus had already transformed so that his body was composed of organic armor. He stood nearly a foot taller than he did in his usual form. U.S. Agent wore his entire uniform, hood and all. He clutched his shield in one hand.

“You three get changed,” Brad ordered.

Nighthawk, Hawkeye and the Beast all stepped into square cubicles, doors closing behind them.

Nate turned back to Brad. The look on Brad’s face froze Nate’s breath in his chest. He looked unsure, yet determined. It was as though he needed Nate to understand something but didn’t really believe he would.

“Ready to see the show?” Brad asked.

“Yes,” Nate said, sounding breathless to his own ears. “Show me.”

Nate was surprised when Brad stripped off his tee shirt. He didn’t know what he’d expected but that wasn’t it. His mouth turned dry at the sight of Brad’s naked chest and arms. Nate’s eyes roamed over Brad’s shoulders; they really were as broad as they seemed. His chest and abs were more defined than Nate had ever seen. Brad’s waist and hips were lean and narrow, making his shoulders and chest seem that much broader. Nate swallowed hard.

Brad’s belt buckle was a simple ‘X’ in an oval. It was unusual and Nate realized it was equally odd that he noticed it, given the amount of skin on display before him. Brad took a deep breath and Nate realized he was just about to change.

One moment Brad was bronze skin and blond hair, long legs encased in denim; the next moment he was shimmering, crystalline ice. Nate had never seen anything like it. Brad was as beautiful in ice form as he was in flesh. The angles and planes of his body were just as sharp and defined, but they seemed cooler and harder.

Nate reached out one hand toward Brad’s chest. His palm itched to feel the cool hardness beneath his fingers. Suddenly, he realized what he was about to do and snatched his hand back. He hadn’t asked if his touch was welcome and Brad hadn’t said. Just as Nate pulled back, Brad’s hand snaked out and wrapped around his wrist. Nate’s heart pounded in his chest as Brad drew his hand forward. He watched breathlessly as his palm was pressed to Brad’s cold chest. He exhaled loudly at the first touch, the first feel of smooth, slick ice beneath his hand. Brad covered Nate’s hand with his own, holding it pressed to his chest.

Glancing up, Nate’s eyes locked with Brad’s. If he was hard to read in his usual form, he was impossible to read in ice form. Nate had no idea what Brad was thinking and it frightened him more than usual.

Loud crashing sounds and brisk conversation sounded from where the others had disappeared in order to change into their costumes. Brad jerked as if slapped and Nate snatched his hand away guiltily. They’d done nothing inappropriate, yet Nate still felt his face flush.

“You can hold hands with your boyfriend when we get back, Iceman,” Nighthawk said. He stood in the middle of the room, dressed in his costume of black and gold; hawk graphic emblazoned on his chest and face obscured by his hood with its winged openings for his eyes. Nate watched as Nighthawk unfurled an expansive set of wings. “We got work to do.”

“See you when I get back?” Brad asked quietly.

Nate could only nod in response, his mouth too dry to speak.

A wide door at the far end of the room began to slide upward. Nate saw that it opened into a tunnel. Light cascading from the other end told Nate the tunnel opened to the outside.

The sound of several snowmobile type vehicles starting up was nearly deafening. Nate jumped in response. He stood to the side as all the Defenders moved to the door. Hawkeye was dressed in a leather costume of black and purple, bow in hand and quiver on his back. Beast and Colossus, their mutations almost costumes of their own, wore minimal black leather. Beast’s mutation was stunning. His features were feline; oval eyes, elongated muzzle and sharp canine teeth. His hands sported vicious claws. Nate had expected the blue of his fur to be dark. Instead it was a bright and brilliant lapis.

Brad turned to look over his shoulder and each Defender gave him a thumbs-up. Nate watched in fascination as Brad held his hands out in front of him. In the blink of an eye, the floor of the tunnel was coated in a thick layer of ice. With one last, inscrutable look in Nate’s direction, Brad pushed off and began to glide gracefully along the ice slide he had just created. Nighthawk followed with a brisk flap of his wings. All the others rode after them, looking as relaxed as if they were on vacation.

Nate was jealous. He didn’t like being left behind. He also wanted to see Brad using his gifts, making weapons and shields out of ice with nothing more than a thought.

“Come on, Nate,” Mike said quietly, startling Nate back into the present. “There’s gonna be enough press coverage of this mess that we can monitor it pretty easy. Plus, I gotta make some phone calls for the guys, before they get on scene.”

The tall door slowly lowered itself closed. Reluctantly, Nate turned to follow Mike.

He’d been so distracted when he’d first entered the room; Nate hadn’t seen the wall covered entirely in large television screens. Mike sat down at one end of a long, smoked-glass table. He pressed the surface in several locations. When Nate sat beside him, he could see a computer keypad, a telephone dial pad, and what looked like a menu list.

Mike’s fingers danced across the table surface and screens on the wall began to flash to life. Two displayed national news coverage of what Nate assumed was the situation Brad was heading into. Two more screens looked to be local coverage of the same.

“Dial Highway Patrol,” Mike said.

Unseen speakers came to life with a dial tone. After several rings, a low pitched female voice answered, “ _Hey, Defenders_.”

“Hey, CHiPs,” Mike replied. “You know what’s goin’ on downtown?”

“ _Yep, we got it_.”

“The guys are enroute via Iceman’s slide. If you haven’t already, can you close down those intersecting freeways so no one gets in or out?”

“ _You got it._ ”

Mike disconnected and placed another call. “Dial L.A.P.D.”

“ _Defenders_ ,” another woman answered, “ _you guys on the way?_ ”

“The whole team,” Mike confirmed. “You guys have traffic secured?”

“ _Affirmative. Our tactical response is on scene and standing by._ ”

“Is F.D. staging?”

“ _They are_.”

“Have your officers hang in there. The cavalry’s on the way.” Mike ended the call.

He pressed on the table a few more times and spoke again. “This is Station M on Defender’s comm, how copy?”

“ _Iceman; you’re loud and clear, Station M._ ” Brad’s voice filled the room and Nate’s heart started to beat just a little faster.

“Excellent, let’s do a roll call.” Mike called out each Defender’s code name and one-by-one they confirmed the transmission was loud and clear.

“Okay, Iceman,” Mike said, glancing up at the television monitors on the wall. “The news outlets are giving me a pretty good view of what’s going on, so here’s the sit-rep.”

Nate listened as Mike ran down the situation. An unknown number of subjects were on top of the Citibank building at the northeast corner of Fifth and Flower. The L.A. library was on the southeast corner. On the northwest corner was a strip-mall of eating establishments and the southwest corner was the Bank of America tower. The subjects had bombarded traffic and pedestrians on both Fifth and Flower with some sort of incendiary spherical objects. The injured had been evac’d. Police couldn’t get into the building. All routes of escape were cut off. Anytime anyone on the ground tried to make a move, the bombardment would start again.

“How far out are you?” Mike asked.

“ _Still fifteen mikes,_ ” Brad replied.

“Roger that. Wave at the cameras when you get on scene.”

Nate avidly watched the news broadcasts, trying to identify anything that might be useful. None of the cameras could get close enough to identify the subjects on top of the Citibank building. It was frustrating for Nate, not being able to help. He felt useless, just sitting around the command center.

“I’m glad we have a few minutes alone,” Mike said, startling Nate. “I have a report to file on your progress and I need to include notes on your state of mind. I just can’t get you away from Colbert long enough to have a private conversation.”

Nate liked that Brad was a constant presence, even if it was Brad just doing his job. “Brad’s been a great deal of help in these last weeks,” Nate said, keeping his eyes on the TVs. “He takes his job very seriously.”

“Yeah, that he does,” Mike agreed. “He seems to be taking your transition very seriously, too.”

“Brad views looking after his men to be an important aspect of his job,” Nate explained, even though he was sure Mike was already aware of this.

“Nate,” Mike’s tone made Nate turn to look at him. “Brad’s job to look after you ended as soon as I showed up.”

Nate knew that. The fact that Brad was always within shouting distance, or closer, meant that he considered Nate to be one of his men. It didn’t seem to matter that Nate’s decision to join the Defenders wasn’t official, yet. “He’s extraordinarily loyal to the members of his teams. Even those he doesn’t work with anymore. He still speaks reverently of Professor Xavier and the X-Men. He feels it’s his duty to help me assimilate smoothly, regardless of whom is assigned the task.”

Mike was watching him thoughtfully. “What has Brad told you about Professor Xavier?”

“That he runs the school for mutants where Brad grew up and he’s the one who started the X-Men,” Nate replied.

“That’s true but that’s not the whole story,” Mike said, leaning back in his chair. He continued to look at Nate in a way that made him uncomfortable. “When Brad’s powers began to make themselves known, his parents abandoned him.”

“They did what?” Nate was appalled.

“They dropped him on the doorstep of Xavier’s school with just the clothes on his back. The Professor pretty much raised Brad. He’s the closest thing Brad’s got to a father, that’s for sure.”

Nate was hurt that Brad had never shared this information. The he gave himself a mental shake. Of course he hadn’t. This was personal and sensitive information, certainly not anything Brad shared with just anyone. “Naturally, when Xavier formed the X-Men and asked Brad to join, he did.”

“Naturally,” Mike agreed.

“And the relationships he formed with his former team members are still a significant part of his life,” Nate observed. “He’s remained close to both Angel and Mystique.”

Mike gave a derisive snort. “Brad’s a lot of things with Angel and Mystique, but I wouldn’t call any of it ‘close’. And Mystique was never a team member to Brad.”

Nate quickly reviewed all the things Brad had ever said about Angel and Mystique. He had to admit that because Mystique was a mutant, he’d assumed she’d been an X-Man. Still, something in Mike’s demeanor had Nate second guessing his entire assessment of Brad’s relationships with the other two mutants. “If Mystique was never a team member of Brad’s, what was she?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Nate _knew_ the answer. A hope he hadn’t been aware he was harboring dimmed slightly. 

Mike sighed heavily. “You know that Brad and Angel grew up together at Professor Xavier’s school, right?” At Nate’s nod, Mike continued. “It was also a romantic relationship. I didn’t know either of them back then but by all accounts it was pretty intense. They were just kids, really, so it’s understandable.”

Nate swallowed down an unreasonable jealousy. He had no right to that feeling. He ignored the hope flaring back to life at the revelation of Brad’s emotional involvement with Angel.

“Anyway,” Mike continued, oblivious to Nate’s inner turmoil, “they grew up and grew out of it, I guess. Outgrew one another but stayed friends. Until Mystique.”

Dread clawed painfully at Nate’s gut as he listened.

“Now, I was around for the mess with Mystique but I still don’t know all the details. I just know that we all told Brad she was bad fuckin’ news. Nobody but Brad trusted her but he wouldn’t listen. It still took us all by surprise when we found out she’d been fuckin’ Angel almost the whole time. Dumped Brad for him and they had the nerve to ask him to stay friends with them.”

Nate pressed the knuckles of one hand to his mouth. He hurt for Brad. The pain he felt on Brad’s behalf was physical.

“Ray’s got all the sordid fuckin’ details,” Mike said with a negligent wave of his hand. “I think you should ask Ray what happened. If he thinks it’s in Brad’s interest for you to know, he’ll tell you _more_ than you ever wanted to know.”

Nate had no intention of asking Ray for any information. It was Brad’s story to tell and he obviously didn’t want Nate knowing the details.

“It must have strengthened Brad’s sense of loyalty,” Nate said quietly. “By remaining fiercely loyal to those who betrayed him, Brad feels as though he’s risen above them. He honors the brotherhood even when he himself has been let down.”

“I think you need to have a talk with Ray,” Mike said, looking skeptical. “But, back to how you’re doing. I’ve seen you get down, Nate. You’ve had bad days. How’s Brad at helping you through those?”

Nate gave a genuine laugh. “He tries to cheer me up by making these miniature ice sculptures out of thin air.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike chuckled. “I’ve seen that party trick.”

“The other day he made a bunch of them for me to put in my drink. They were all shaped like cocks and balls. Each one was a different size or was shaped weirdly. Some of them curved in strange ways and they all made me laugh.”

Mike was back to giving Nate an odd look. “Does he make them in any other shapes for you?”

“One time he made a miniature version of my old Captain America shield. He made one that looked like my old Harley Davidson. The first one he ever made was the Marine Corps eagle, globe and anchor.”

“Have you told him yet, that you’re gonna be joining the Defenders?” Mike asked as he turned to type rapidly at the keyboard image.

“I haven’t decided that officially,” Nate said hastily.

Mike shot him a dubious look. “You happy here, Nate? You like the all the guys?”

“Yes,” was the only answer Nate had to give.

Whatever Mike was going to say next was forgotten as the Defenders reached the scene of chaos on the streets of Los Angeles.


	6. Chapter 6

**_And as the Defenders race to the scene of death and destruction on the downtown streets of Los Angeles …_ **

Brad curved the ice slide upward, arcing over the 110 freeway. He brought it down onto Fifth Street, right at Figueroa. He had a clear view up Fifth to the chaos raining down at the intersection up ahead. The rest of the Defenders came down the ramp behind him, cutting the engines on the cycles when they reached the street.

“Iceman to Station M,” Brad hailed the command center.

“ _Go for Station M,_ ” Mike’s voice sounded confidently in Brad’s ear.

“We’re on scene. Any updates?”

“ _None. Keep us informed as the shit develops down there. Stay safe._ ”

“Roger that. Iceman out.”

“Sir,” a uniformed officer said, as he approached Brad, “we’re glad you’re here.”

Brad nodded as he surveyed the anarchy at the next intersection. “Where’s the CP?” he asked.

“The command post is right here,” the officer answered.

“Who’s the IC?” Brad looked closer at the uniform and recognized Lieutenant’s bars.

“I’m the Incident Commander, Lt. Avery.”

“When we move forward and get into place, pull your people back,” Brad said, gesturing for the Defenders to follow him. “Have your tactical unit ready for when we secure the scene and hand it back over to you.”

Brad and his team walked toward the continuing explosions. “Colossus, you take Flower; U.S. Agent, you take Fifth. Block as many of those rays and fire balls as you can, let the cops fall back and evac the civilians, then hold the line.”

“You got it, Iceman,” U.S. Agent said zealously. He hefted his shield, ready to run into the fray.

“What are you gonna do?” Colossus asked, looking down at Brad.

“Get close enough to figure out who the fuck is doing this and how to take them out,” Brad replied.

“Good luck,” Colossus said.

“God speed you, Iceman,” U.S. Agent said, backing down the street. “God speed you all. Good hunting and I’ll see you all on the other side. Victorious.”

“Go get in position,” Colossus said, shoving U.S. Agent’s shoulder to move him along.

“Let’s go make our presence known,” Brad ordered the rest of the team. “Create a distraction for Colossus and U.S. Agent to coordinate the evacs. Let me know what you see and hear coming from that building.”

“Let’s get this shit on,” Nighthawk said, drawing his wings in closer to his body.

“Try not to be so gleeful about the city gettin’ blown to shit,” Beast admonished.

“Like you don’t wanna get some, too.” Nighthawk was undaunted.

“Shut the fuck up, ladies,” Brad snapped, “and let’s get to work.”

As Brad, Nighthawk, Hawkeye and Beast headed toward the Citibank tower, Brad threw up a translucent shield of ice that curved in front and slightly over them. He pushed it along the street as they walked, giving them all protection from the fiery rays and falling debris.

People were fleeing all around them. Many made it out under their own power. Still others were assisted by uniformed police or other civilians. As the Defenders reached the street in front of the tower, most of the people had been evacuated. The streets were left in ruin; mangled cars and charred craters stretching in both directions.

Colossus covered the final retreating figures by absorbing the blasts with his organic armor. U.S. Agent deflected them with his shield. Even over the explosions, Brad could hear him yelling maniacally.

“ _Iceman, this is Colossus_.”

“Go for Iceman.”

“ _Everything is coming from the roof. This entire barrage is centered up there. I can glimpse someone occasionally, but no clear view._ ”

“Roger that.” Brad turned to his team. “Beast, make your way around to the rear of the tower, see if you can safely make a climb to the roof.”

“You got it,” he replied. With a speed that always surprised Brad, Beast dropped onto all fours and loped over to Colossus’ position. When the way appeared clear, he headed for the tower, leaping over mangled cars and dodging around others. In seconds, he disappeared safely around the building.

Before he could implement the next part of his plan, Brad felt something go wrong with the ice shield. Glancing up, he saw that it was melting, slowly leaving them vulnerable to the ongoing attack.

“What the fuck, Iceman?” Nighthawk asked indignantly. “You need to concentrate or our asses are gonna get shot off.”

Brad adjusted his focus, pulling in more ambient moisture, forcing the molecules to freeze and willing them to stay that way.

The shield continued to melt. That’s when he realized he was sweating. Something was wrong; he didn’t sweat in this form. He was made of fucking _ice_.

“What’s wrong, Iceman,” Hawkeye asked, concern lacing his voice. “What do you need?”

“Something’s fucking with my powers,” he said, reformulating his plan and searching for a fallback position. “The food court. Take cover behind the rock wall,” he ordered.

Brad held the shield long enough to cover their retreat. The three of them ducked behind the sturdy rock wall that served as the foundation of the decorative water feature for the food court.

“Any idea what happened?” Hawkeye asked.

“I could form the ice but I couldn’t make it hold. It shouldn’t be able to melt until I let it.”

“Sounds like someone knew to expect you in particular,” Nighthawk said, carefully glancing over the edge of the wall. “Any chance Pyro’s here?”

“No, we’d see the flames,” Brad replied, mind racing.

“How ‘bout the Bank of America building?” Hawkeye asked.

Confused, Brad glanced down at Hawkeye then followed his gaze to the darkened tower across from the Citibank building. No one was paying it any attention.

“Whoever’s doing this has everyone’s attention on the Citibank tower. Could there be a device somewhere in the Bank of America building that’s fucking with your powers?” Hawkeye asked.

“One way to find out,” Brad mused. “Hawkeye, you help Beast distract our friends while Nighthawk and I recon the other building.”

“Will do,” Hawkeye agreed readily.

Brad raised Beast on the comm and told him the new plan. When Hawkeye moved into the street, firing different types of arrows in the appearance of an attack, Nighthawk unfurled his wings.

“You want me to cuddle you like Angel used to?” Nighthawk asked.

“Fuck you,” Brad snapped. He was so fucking sick of the jokes.

“No thanks. I’m leaving that path clear for the LT.” Nighthawk held out a hand and Brad grasped his forearm tightly.

Brad didn’t have time to correct Nighthawk’s assumption. His stomach lurched when Nighthawk launched them into the night sky. Brad was glad it was a short trip. He rolled to his feet when Nighthawk dropped him, unceremoniously, on the roof of the tower.

“I’d say that was the air conditioning unit.” Nighthawk pointed toward a large metal box that sat on the edge of the roof. “But it doesn’t connect to any ducts. That, on the other hand,” he indicated a device triple the size in the center of the roof, “that one _is_ connected to ducts leading into the building.”

“Hawkeye, this is Iceman,” Brad hailed.

“ _Go for Hawkeye_ ,” he immediately responded.

“Any chance you could fire an arrow that would reach the roof of this building?”

“ _Is this a trick question_?”

“You’re the one using trick arrows.”

“ _Can I get a visual on my target and how big is it?_ ”

“Turn around and look.”

There was a brief pause from Hawkeye, then; “ _If that’s it right on the edge overlooking the street, piece of cake. What is it, exactly_?”

“Nighthawk thinks it’s a thermal disrupter. It’s mechanical and made of metal but it doesn’t seem like anything special like Adamantium.”

“ _I’ve got a thermal arrow that should have enough incendiary power to get the job done. If that doesn’t work, the acid arrow will eat through almost anything._ ”

“Give us ten seconds to get clear then launch the thermal arrow. How copy?”

“ _Solid copy. Counting down from ten … nine … eight …_ ”

Nighthawk grabbed Brad’s forearm in a tight grip and pitched them both off the roof. Brad’s first instinct was to generate an ice slide to ease their descent. Before he had the chance, Nighthawk’s wings caught an updraft. They landed easily in the deserted street.

Above them, the thermal disruptor exploded.

“ _Got it in one,_ ” Hawkeye declared proudly.

Brad was about to order Hawkeye to the rear of the Citibank tower so that Beast could carry him to the roof. His intent was to have Nighthawk fly him up simultaneously. He intended their combined attack to surprise and overwhelm whoever was up there.

Before he could issue orders, several bulky shapes, shrouded in shadow, stepped to the edge of the roof. Brad could see the thermal blasts that continued to pound down onto the streets were coming from the faces of these figures. What the fuck?

“ _Station M for Iceman_ ,” Mike’s voice sounded in Brad’s ear.

“Go for Iceman,” he replied as he and Nighthawk ran for cover.

“ _We’ve identified a team of Sleepers on the Citibank tower_ ,” Mike informed him.

“Roger that,” Brad acknowledged, his mind racing through the implications of this information. “Any idea who’s controlling them?”

Before Mike could answer, the lights from all the media outlets covering the incident illuminated another figure. At this distance, Brad couldn’t see much detail. What he could see was gruesome. The figure’s head was a hideous blood-red skull.

Brad drew breath to ask if Mike could see this. Before he could speak, an amplified voice rang out through the city.

“I am Red Skull. This demonstration exhibited a fraction of my power. Next time, Los Angeles will be wiped from the map, if Red Skull does not get what he wants. Red Skull wants Captain America. The Defenders will hand him over within forty-eight hours, or the city will pay the price.”

Brad snorted derisively. Fucking super villains; always melodramatic and over the top. Did this piece of shit really think Bryan Patterson was just going to order Captain America handed over because of a flashy, yet patently ineffective, temper tantrum?

Even if Brad thought Patterson might do it, he’d personally never let it happen.

Dread settled like a lead weight in Brad’s gut. With Mike in the command center there was every chance Nate was there with him, listening in on this shit.

Brad stood rooted to his spot as a flying craft lowered over the building. The Sleepers launched thermal blasts in all directions, forcing Colossus and U.S. Agent to take cover. Brad threw up an ice shield, protecting Hawkeye, Nighthawk and himself. When the smoke cleared, the craft was gone and the rooftop was empty.

Fuck. “Iceman for Station M _,_ ” Brad hailed Mike.

“ _Go for Station M,_ ” Mike replied.

“Did you get all that?”

“ _Affirmative. RTB and we’ll start sorting this out. PD got the scene secured?_ ”

“They do. We’ll be there in approximately twenty mikes.” Brad was going to terminate the transmission when he heard himself ask, “Is Nate there _?_ ”

“ _Yeah, he’s right here_ ,” Mike answered.

“We’ll figure this out, Nate,” Brad addressed himself directly to Nate, needing him to believe. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There was an interminable pause before Nate calmly responded. “ _Understood. Hurry back._ ”

Brad ordered his team back to the CP. While he waited for them, he let the IC thank him profusely for the help. All around them, the injured were being looked after by EMS personnel.

“Your tactical units can secure the Citibank building,” Brad told the IC. “On the roof of the Bank of America tower you’ll find an exploded thermal disruptor. Bryan Patterson may want to get his hands on it for research purposes.”

Beast, Colossus and U.S. Agent rejoined the team. Stepping clear of the IC, Brad formed an ice slide and headed off in the direction of the Defender’s mansion.

He had no idea who or what this Red Skull was and he didn’t give a fuck. Whatever he wanted with Nate, it couldn’t be good.

Thoughts of Nate conjured mental images of the man. Brad’s cock grew harder as he imagined the green eyes and full lips he’d grown so fond of. He always got hard after a mission – the risk, the adrenaline, the teamwork and the success always left him aroused and aching. Now it was compounded by thoughts of Nate.

Brad hoped Nate had left the command center before they returned. If he had to face him while feeling like this, he didn’t trust himself not to throw Nate down onto the floor and rut against him until they both came.

He’d been trying to go slow. Brad had been trying to gradually ease Nate into the idea of joining the Defenders but his feelings were quickly reaching critical mass. He didn’t want to scare Nate off but it was getting more and more difficult each day; to be around him and not _have_ him.

 **_Backtrack in time now, as Nate gets his first glimpse of the awesome crime-fighting skills of the Defenders …_ **

Brad and his team needed little to no help from the command center. Nate didn’t like the useless feeling it left him with but it _did_ afford him the opportunity to observe Brad in action.

“He’s a brilliant strategist,” Nate murmured as they watched Brad effectively deploy his team in a way that played to their strengths.

U.S. Agent and Colossus deflected further attacks on civilians at street level. Beast and Hawkeye created a distraction by feigning an attack on the Citibank tower. This occupied the attackers long enough for Iceman and Nighthawk to disable a device on the Bank of America tower that was somehow inhibiting Iceman’s abilities.

Suddenly, a figure stepped to the edge of the roof of the Citibank building. Arrayed beside him were several shadowy shapes. Nate leaned forward for a better look, recognition hovering just out of reach.

One of the shapes directed a blinding red flash at the street below. It originated from the figure’s facial region and Nate’s blood ran cold. He knew what they were.

“Sleepers,” he said, jumping to his feet. “They’re fucking Sleepers.”

“Are you sure?” Mike demanded.

“Absolutely,” Nate confirmed. “In addition to those thermal blasts, they can fire repulsor-rays from their eye sockets.”

“Aren’t Sleepers just drones?”

“Yes, they are. Which means …”

“They’re under someone’s control,” Mike finished. “Station M for Iceman,” he said, activating the comms.

“ _Go for Iceman_ ,” came Brad’s harried reply.

“We’ve identified a team of Sleepers on the Citibank tower,” Mike informed him.

“ _Roger that._ ” Brad paused. “ _Any idea who’s controlling them?_ ”

At that moment the television screens all filled with the image of a tall man on top of the Citibank building. He wore a hideous skull mask the color of blood.

Nate collapsed into his chair. “Red Skull,” he said, not yet believing his eyes.

The figure on the television screens began to speak. “I am Red Skull. This demonstration exhibited a fraction of my power. Next time, Los Angeles will be wiped from the map, if Red Skull does not get what he wants. Red Skull wants Captain America. The Defenders will hand him over within forty-eight hours or the city will pay the price.”

As Red Skull spoke, a flying craft lowered over the building. The Sleepers aimed thermal blasts in all directions, blinding and deafening all the onlookers. When the smoke cleared, the craft was gone and the rooftop was empty.

“It can’t be,” Nate muttered, mind racing over all the implications. He couldn’t imagine how it was possible.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Mike said. “He was last seen before you went MIA.”

“And here I am,” Nate said dryly.

“The chances of two of you being frozen in blocks of ice for sixty-five years are too great to even consider.” As he talked, Mike brought up biographical information on Red Skull and displayed it on the unused TVs. “It’ll turn out to be an imposter. There were a couple of times we had well-meaning nut jobs turn up claiming to be Captain America, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Nate said distractedly. He didn’t understand what Red Skull wanted with _him_.

“Don’t worry, Nate,” Mike said after several long moments. “We ain’t handin’ you over. Brad’ll die first, or kill anyone who tried to go behind his back.”

Nate nodded. That was precisely what he was afraid of.

“ _Iceman for Station M,_ ” Brad’s voice filled the room.

“Go for Station M,” Mike replied.

“ _Did you get all that?_ ”

“Affirmative. RTB and we’ll start sorting this out. PD got the scene secured?”

“ _They do. We’ll be there in approximately twenty mikes_.” Brad paused, then, “ _Is Nate there?_ ”

“Yeah, he’s right here,” Mike answered.

“ _We’ll figure this out, Nate. I won’t let anything happen to you._ ”

Warmth flooded Nate’s chest before he could remind himself that Brad would say the same thing to any member of his team. “Understood. Hurry back.”

The inside door to the command center opened, startling Nate. He and Mike both turned. The ubiquitous housekeeping staff entered the cavernous room and Mike greeted them warmly. At first, Nate was surprised. When he thought about it, he realized it made sense. Super secret command centers needed maintenance, too.

Quickly and quietly they piled up the discarded clothing from the cubicles the team had used to change. Clean street clothes and fresh costumes appeared and were hung in the cubicles. Nate realized one of the doors led to a huge communal bathroom.

Nigel, who seemed to function as the house’s butler, appeared at his side with Brad’s discarded tee shirt in his hands. “Mr. Colbert will require this upon his return,” he said, holding out the neatly folded garment for Nate to take. “I’ll let you give it to him, Lt. Fick.”

Nate took the shirt reluctantly. “Sure. Thank you, Nigel.”

When they were alone again, Nate held the shirt out to Mike. “Why doesn’t Brad get a change of clothes like the others?”

“Brad’s appearance is his costume,” Mike said. “Unless he goes swimming he doesn’t need to change when he gets back. It’s unusual for him to take anything off at all before he leaves for a mission.”

Nate could tell from Mike’s tone and expression that he was missing something significant. “Why did Nigel give the shirt to me and not you?”

Mike shrugged, his expression inscrutable. “Just give it to him when comes back, Nate.”

Nate placed the shirt in his lap, smoothing his palms over the soft cotton. He resisted the urge to press it to his face and inhale Brad’s scent, knowing it clung to the fabric.

What felt like hours later, the outer door began to roll upward. Brad appeared suddenly, sliding gracefully to a stop before striding into the command center. Nate watched as he dropped his icy appearance, once again becoming flesh and bone.

Standing, Nate crossed the room on an intercept course. When Brad saw him, he came to an abrupt halt. Nate held the shirt out to him.

“You,” Nate stopped and cleared his throat, hoping Brad couldn’t hear the way his heart was slamming against his ribcage. “You left this behind.”

Brad looked at the shirt as if he’d never seen it before. Slowly, he took it from Nate’s hands. “Thank you,” he said gruffly, sliding his arms in first then pulling the shirt over his head.

Nate swallowed hard. He followed Brad’s movements, his eyes settling on the hem where it brushed over Brad’s belt buckle.

Brad was hard and pressing against the fly of his jeans. Nate hastily looked away. He knew that feeling. It used to happen to him all the time after missions. The excitement, the pleasure of success; they combined to give Nate some of the most insistent erections of his life.

He used to take care of it by jacking off in the shower, always wishing he had someone there to help him with it. He didn’t imagine Brad felt the same.

Nate stepped aside. “I’ll let you go. You must have things you need to do.” he tried not to flinch at his own choice of words. “I just wanted to say that was impressive work, tonight.”

“Thank you, sir,” Brad said, voice rough. He watched Nate, something hot and unfamiliar in his eyes. It seemed he had more he wanted to say but instead, Brad gave Nate a sharp nod and left the command center.

Even though Nate hadn’t been on the mission, he suddenly felt the urgent need to shower.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Later that night, the Defender’s mansion is quiet, even as the occupants grow more and more restless …_ **

Brad stood in the shower, forearms pressed to the rough tile. He closed his eyes as the hot water from multiple showerheads cascaded over him. With a heavy sigh, he let his head rest on his arms. His cock was achingly hard and he tried to will it into submission. Brad knew that if he touched himself, his thoughts would be about Nate. Images of Nate would be the only things playing behind his eyelids and it felt wrong to Brad, to think of him that way.

He placed his fingers on his own chest, stroked the skin over his own heart. At first, Brad didn’t realize what he was doing. Again, he was assaulted by the memory of Nate standing in front of him before they’d left for the mission. Brad remembered green eyes wide open and Nate reaching out to feel him in his ice form. He ran his own fingers over that same place Nate had touched him. He’d been so afraid of what he was going to see in Nate’s eyes; disgust, revulsion, ambivalence at the very least. Brad hadn’t been ready for the wonder and admiration he’d seen instead.

When Nate had reached out to touch him, Brad had ached for it. When Nate had pulled back, Brad had reached out before he’d even thought about what he was doing. He just knew he wanted to feel Nate’s hand on him. He wanted to know Nate’s touch, if only just that one time.

Brad now faced the realization that one touch wasn’t enough. He’d almost forgotten he was leaving for a mission, so great had been his desire to pull Nate’s body into his own and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. He’d held Nate’s hand to his chest and had released it reluctantly.

It was useless. Brad dropped his hand down to his cock and gripped himself firmly. He placed his other hand over the place on his chest where Nate had touched him. Brad was embarrassed by the hungry sound of his own groan. He kept his fingers pressed to his chest, remembering the heat of Nate’s palm. Each breath was a tortured, rasping gasp as he jacked himself. Brad’s hips flexed as he fucked his own fist, silently acknowledging he wished it were Nate’s.

The memory of Nate’s generous mouth parting in a gasp as his hand made contact with Brad’s icy chest was what shoved Brad over the edge. His orgasm slammed into him, ripping a strangled shout from his throat. His balls throbbed with each pulse of come they forced out of his cock. Brad’s legs trembled and his knees almost gave out. The hand he pressed to the shower wall to steady himself was the one he’d had wrapped around his dick. His other hand stayed pressed to his chest. It was as if Nate had branded him and Brad could still feel it.

He shut off the shower and reached for a towel. He had to get his thoughts under control. It was too soon to lay this kind of thing on Nate. Brad needed to ease his adjustment to the twenty-first century. He needed to convince Nate to stay on as a Defender. Then, and only then, could Brad even consider encouraging Nate’s interest in him. And that was assuming Nate could ever be interested in him.

Brad knew it was a long shot. He’d also never backed down from a motherfucking challenge in his life.

He was just sliding on a pair of track pants when there was a knock at his door. Brad sighed heavily, sure it was Ray. He wasn’t in the fucking mood. It wasn’t like he could hide; the light was easily seen underneath the door.

Brad crossed to the door, the cuffs of his pants scuffing lightly on the thick carpet. He jerked the door open and sighed in relief at the sight of Mike.

“Let me guess,” Mike said, smiling, “you thought I was Ray.”

“It makes me so happy that you are, in fact, not Ray, I will actually offer you a beer.”

Mike chuckled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“I’d ask what brings you here this time of night,” Brad said, taking a seat on a sofa, “but I suspect I already know.”

Mike settled on the sofa directly across from him. He handed Brad an e-tablet. “That’s everything I dug up on Red Skull.”

“There was shit to dig up?” Brad asked, eyebrow lifting in surprise. “How did Nate take this asshole’s threat?”

“He’s less worried about that than he is the possibility that Red Skull somehow followed him here,” Mike answered.

Brad quickly scanned through the summary of Nate’s battles with Red Skull during the course of World War II. “He killed the fucker twice,” he said, glancing up at Mike. “So Red Skull’s an old super villain, not some knew psycho playing dress up?”

“Nate killed the first guy, George Maxon, who turned out to be an agent of the real Red Skull, Johan Schmidt. Captain America buried Schmidt in the rubble of a demolished building. Both were Nazi agents acting as spies and saboteurs.” Mike rubbed his fingers over his forehead. He looked like he was battling a headache. “Others have cropped up through the years, taking on the name Red Skull and hiding behind that hideous mask thing. I think Nate’s right to be a little nervous. Someone always seems to show up as Red Skull at the same time one of those wannabes decides to play dress up and pretend to be Captain America.”

“But Nate’s the real thing,” Brad stated the obvious as he went back to reading through the Red Skull timeline. “Does he think this Red Skull is, too?”

“Well, Schmidt’s body was never found,” Mike said. “But I think there’s a greater chance that we’re talking about someone who has it in for superheroes or mutants, possibly even Patterson. Nate’s reappearance is probably just a lucky opportunity.”

“Have you talked to Patterson?”

“Yep. He agrees that we need to look hard at people we know we have a conflict with,” Mike replied.

“What does he say about Nate?” Brad asked, needing to hear the words.

Mike frowned. “What the fuck do you think he said? We ain’t handin’ no one over.”

Relief loosened the knots in Brad’s gut.

“I think it’s time you start makin’ Nate part of the team,” Mike continued. “Sparring, weapons training; definitely keep that up. But Captain America was a solo act. Well, he had that sidekick but he’s never worked as part of a team. Show him how the Defenders all have each other’s backs before he goes and does something noble, thinking he’s protecting all of you.”

Dread curled up cold in Brad’s chest. “Me? Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Mike snorted. “You ain’t let me do my job since I been here, Brad. I don’t mind but let’s stop the pretendin’.”

“Do you think he would?” Brad asked hesitantly. “Do you think he’d hand himself over?”

“Right now I think he’s considering the possibility.”

“Fuck.”

“Show him he’d do more harm than good if he did,” Mike said, standing to leave. “And it shouldn’t be a problem.”

After Mike was gone Brad tossed their empty bottles. He got himself a fresh beer and sat down, wondering what the hell else he could do about Nate.

 **_As Brad and Mike discuss Red Skull, Nate goes in search of answers …_ **

Nate had told himself that Brad’s history with Angel and Mystique was none of his business. If Brad wanted him to know the story he’d tell Nate himself. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Mike thought there was something Nate needed to know; something Brad couldn’t bring himself to tell Nate himself.

If Nate had any balls, he’d ask Brad directly. He was just afraid that this fragile thing between them would collapse and he absolutely didn’t want that to happen.

Quietly, Nate stepped into the hallway and closed the door to his rooms. A glance told him the lights were on in Brad’s rooms which meant the chances of running into him were slim.

Since he’d been rescued, Nate had been having difficulty sleeping through the night. Doc told him it could be a side effect from sixty-five years frozen in a block of ice. They also speculated that the Super-Soldier serum might have matured in that time and possibly, he just didn’t need as much sleep. Whatever the reason, his nocturnal habits meant that he spent quite a lot of time in the workout rooms with Ray and Walt.

Ray was awake during most of the nighttime hours because his superpowers were active from dusk until dawn. Walt had no such limitation yet, always seemed to be with Ray. Together they worked out, fine tuned their weapons, or worked on some project Brad assigned them. Nate suspected he knew why Ray and Walt were always together but he kept it to himself.

He went to the workout rooms first. Sure enough, Walt and Ray were circling one another on the large mat in the center of the room.

Walt saw Nate first. “Hey, LT,” he greeted with a smile. “Trouble sleeping again?”

“No,” Nate admitted, deciding on the direct approach. “I came to talk to Ray.”

“Tired of all those pussy Iceman moves, sir?” Ray said with a manic smile. “Come to learn how a real man fights?”

“Mike told me I should ask you for some information,” Nate hedged; still not sure this was a good idea.

Ray’s gaze turned sharp and his smile faded. For all his long-winded rants on very questionable topics, Ray was very smart and very observant. Something in Nate’s demeanor obviously communicated the seriousness of his visit.

“What information do _I_ have that Mike thinks you need to know?” Ray asked carefully.

“He told me that if you thought it was in Brad’s best interest for me to know what went on with Angel and Mystique, that you’d tell me.”

Ray nodded silently, beginning to remove the thin gloves he wore for sparring. “Have a seat, sir.” He indicated one of the nearby weight benches.

“Should I go?” Walt asked quietly.

“Nah, bro, you already know this fucked up story,” Ray answered him and glanced at Nate. “Unless you’d be more comfortable with just the two of us, sir?”

“I’m worried for Brad’s privacy,” Nate replied. “If Walt already knows what you’re apparently going to tell me, I’m fine if he stays.”

Ray sat on a weight bench while Walt leaned his forearms on the weight bar behind him. Their serious expressions had a sick feeling settling in Nate’s belly.

“You know how Brad came to be a student at Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters?” Ray asked. “You understand how Brad feels about the Prof?”

Nate nodded.

“Angel,” Ray said. “Warren Kenneth Worthington the third. Rich dicksuck. Self-centered asshole. Descended from an ancient line of Cheyarafim mutants and nowhere near as powerful as Brad. He’s a jealous motherfucker who saw a chance to fuck over his best friend and he took it.”

“Mike said he and Brad were …” Nate started but Ray cut him off.

“Yeah, they had a thing going for a few years. I gotta admit, they were really pretty together. Tall and blond – if you like ‘em tall, anyway – and Angel could literally wrap Brad up in his wings. I think Brad liked that he could sort of hide from the world that way.” Ray’s expression was serious and his gaze seemed far away, as if he was discovering half-forgotten memories. “For a little while, anyway.” He gave his head a sharp shake and continued, “So, they grew up together. They’re both mutants and feel like outcasts so it made sense they’d get hot and heavy for awhile. Brad grew up though. He outgrew Angel, who’s really just an overgrown kid.”

“They stayed friends?” Nate asked, ignoring the bolt of jealousy that shot through him.

“Yeah. When we first started up the Defenders, Angel financed us with his family’s money. We had a bitchin’ mansion in Colorado and lots of cool toys. It’s better now 'cause we still have a bitchin’ mansion and cool toys, but Patterson stays the fuck out of our hair and I don’t have to resist the urge to scratch Angel’s eyes out with my scientifically manufactured talons.”

Nate couldn’t help but smile at Ray’s fierce loyalty to Brad. “Does Angel have _any_ redeeming qualities, Ray?”

“You mock me now, but just wait ‘til I get to the end of the story. You’ll hate the fucker, too,” Ray replied heatedly.

“I’ve only met him a couple of times, sir,” Walt interjected, “and I’m not sure what Brad saw in him.”

Nate knew it was petty to feel as pleased by this as he did.

“So, we’re all out here, bein’ the kickass Defenders and doin’ a good job of ridding the world of psycho super villains, when the bitch Mystique shows up.” Ray paused, as if considering his next words. “Hey, LT? Have you ever heard that there’s a direct correlation between how crazy a chick is and how good a fuck she is?”

Nate had no idea how to answer that question.

“Well, let’s just say that Mystique is one crazy suzy-rottencrotch. So you get why Brad kept tappin’ that?” Ray didn’t wait for Nate to answer. “With all that Nazi butt you kicked back in the day, I bet you came across her – Raven Darkholme – ring a bell?” At Nate’s negative nod, Ray plowed ahead. “She’s a shape shifter, sir. She can be a chick or a dude. She had a girlfriend - Destiny - for a really long time. That had to be a better lay than any Thai pussy.”

“Ray,” Walt admonished quietly.

“I’m just givin’ the LT an accurate sit-rep,” Ray protested. “It was a sex thing. Brad just _thought_ he was in love.”

“He needs to know what Angel and Mystique did to Brad,” Walt countered. “He can figure the rest out on his own.”

“I’m gettin’ to that.” Ray did look chastised. “So one day, Brad’s flying back from D.C. in one of Patterson’s private jets and it explodes. We fuckin’ freaked. He survived, though. Turned out Mystique set a bomb in it. When that didn’t kill him, she snuck into the hospital and injected him with a deadly toxin. You’re thinkin’ ‘he’s in a hospital, no problem’, but the crazy bitch gets into a standoff with the staff so they can’t get to him. Luckily, the toxin is killed by freezing temperatures. Next, she set a truck on fire with him in it. He just turned himself to ice and walked right out. Now, Brad’s got a soft spot for kids so when he got ‘hold of her, Mystique turned herself into a little kid. Brad couldn’t bring himself to do anything to her so she got away.”

“Next thing we know,” Walt suddenly spoke up, “Angel shows up here at the mansion with Mystique in tow. They told Brad they’d been fucking each other almost the whole time she’d been fucking him. Mystique had been trying to kill Brad so she and Angel could be together or to get a reaction out of him, she didn’t care which one.”

“When Brad asked her if she’d just been trying to fuck with his head,” Ray picked up the narrative, “she looked at him, smiled and said, ‘no, lover; your melting point’. So, Angel and Mystique declared it their personal missions to cure Brad of his emotional reserve. ‘Cure him or kill him’, Mystique said. They still treat him like a close friend. They show up and flaunt themselves in front of him, just waiting for him to lose his shit.”

Walt spoke up again. “Angel told Brad that just because he could manipulate water on a sub-atomic level didn’t mean he had to have ice water running through his veins. A real man should show a real reaction when people fuck with him.”

“See, I told you,” Ray nearly shouted. “Angel’s jealous of Brad. Brad’s an Omega-level mutant and moves _sub-atomic_ particles. Angel’s got a pretty pair of fluffy white wings.”

Walt snorted a laugh, shooting Ray an affectionate glance.

They sat in silence for a long while. Nate was grateful. He had a lot to wrap his head around. As badly as he wanted to run upstairs and pull Brad into his arms and offer some sort of comfort, he knew it wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, he stared down at his shoes and hoped he never had to meet Angel and Mystique.

“Brad feels things, LT,” Ray said, startling Nate out of his reverie. “He feels things strongly. He just doesn’t _show_ what he’s feeling.”

Nate knew that. On some level he’d figured that out on his own.

“I don’t care if you are Captain America, sir,” Ray continued when Nate remained silent. “If you hurt him, I’ll fuck you up.”

Nate smiled, again appreciating Ray’s loyalty. He wondered if Brad knew how highly this team thought of him. “There’s no danger of that, Ray. It’s not within my power to do so.” He stood to leave. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I’m not sure why Mike thought I needed to know but I appreciate that you trusted me with the story.”

With one final nod Nate headed back to his rooms for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**_The next morning finds the Defenders gathered in their state-of-the-art workout room, keeping their powers and skills sharp …_ **

Brad flinched when Poke landed a solid blow to Nate’s midsection.

“That was a lucky shot, Nate,” McGraw called from where he stood watching the match. His intensity unsettled Brad and he tried to ignore him.

Nate evaded Poke’s cat-like leap and drove an elbow into his back.

“See, that’s more like it,” cheered McGraw. “You got him, Nate. You can take him.”

Dropping low, Nate swept Poke’s legs. When the large blue figure crashed to the mat, Nate pressed his advantage.

“That’s it,” McGraw yelled, a hysterical edge to his voice. “Take him out, Nate. Take him out now.”

“Ease up, Dave,” Brad admonished harshly. “It’s a practice fight.”

Back on his feet, Poke connected a foot to Nate’s thigh with a sickening thud. It wasn’t for Nate’s lack of skill. Poke’s mutation was active; he was sparring with Nate as Beast, looking for and exploiting weaknesses.

“Nate let you past his defenses, Espera,” McGraw shouted darkly. “Otherwise you’d never have made contact. Come on, Nate; you gotta get the upper hand on him.”

Nate was striking Poke effectively and defending himself well. He probably would have remained untouched against any other opponent; Poke was just that good.

“Okay, gents,” Mike said, holding his hands up to stop the sparring, “that’s enough for now. Time to move on.”

Poke helped Nate up from where he was sprawled on the mat, blue fur and feline features retreating quickly.

Brad moved to a corner of the room, retrieved a well-wrapped package and carried back to the sparring mat.

“Nate, we got a present for you,” Mike announced.

Ray and Walt looked up from where they were restringing bows and replacing straps on Walt’s gear. Eric dropped the dumbbells he’d been hefting. Dave came to stand right next to Nate, crowding in. He’d been doing that a lot lately and Brad had just about had enough.

“Rudy says the lab is still putting the finishing touches on your armor and costume,” Mike explained, smiling slightly. “But they sent over something we think you’ll like.”

Brad unwound the soft cloth from the heavy, rounded object in his hand. When the final strands fell away, he gripped it by the handle and held it up for Nate to see.

He’d always read about people’s faces lighting up with pleasure but this was the first time Brad had seen it. Nate’s expression lit up, his eyes wide and bright with pleasure. His mouth fell open slightly before it became a delighted smile.

The look on Nate’s face made Brad’s chest hurt so much he couldn’t breathe. _Fuck_ , he wanted to see more of that look.

“Is that …?” Nate asked breathlessly. He cleared his throat. “Is that my shield?”

The object in Brad’s hand was three feet in diameter. The handle he gripped was thick and comfortable and seemed to be wrapped in a soft material. The face of the shield was brightly painted; an outer ring in vibrant red, a center ring in bright white, an inner ring again in red. The center was a dark blue field onto which was painted a white star.

“Courtesy of Bryan Patterson and Patterson Enterprises.” Mike gestured with a flourish, “Captain America’s shield, made from the lightweight – yet nearly indestructible – Adamantium. Congratulations, Nate.”

Brad’s fingers tingled where they brushed against Nate’s when he passed the shield to him. He imagined Nate gasped at the contact. He lost track of that thought when Nate raised his eyes to Brad’s, wonder obvious in his expression. Nate’s smile was beatific.

“Thank you; all of you,” Nate breathed as he expertly wielded the shield. Brad could tell it was already becoming like an extension of Nate’s arm. “I have to call and thank Mr. Patterson and Rudy, as well.”

“Sir, if I may?” Brad asked, gesturing toward the shield. He had to admit, it was a beautiful weapon. “Bryan had them incorporate a suggestion of mine.” he indicated the razor-sharp ridges. “The edges are bladed, allowing you to defend against an attack and press your advantage.”

Brad’s cock jumped when Nate sucked on his lower lip, closely examining the shield. “That’s brilliant, Brad,” he said finally. “Thank you.”

When Nate met his eyes Brad felt as though they were the only two in the room.

“How ‘bout a demonstration?” Mike asked, startling Brad back into reality. “I wanna see that thing in use. Plus, you should test it _before_ heading into battle.”

“I’ll spar with you, Nate,” Dave said eagerly, hefting his own red and black striped Adamantium shield. “Since yours is the sister shield to my own.”

Every time McGraw forcibly connected himself to Nate, gooseflesh rose on Brad’s arms. There was more menace in it than camaraderie. “Eric will spar with Nate,” Brad declared, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s only right that U.S. Agent should train with Captain America,” Dave argued. “We’re partners.”

“None of us have a partner,” Brad contradicted. “We’re all teammates. Additionally, Dave, Captain America’s shield is bladed. When he gets past your defenses – and he _will_ get past _your_ defenses – he’ll inflict considerable damage that will require extensive time to recuperate. There is also a distinct possibility he’ll kill you. While I am not particularly dismayed by this possibility, Nate might be distressed by it and that would displease me. Eric’s organic steel skin will keep him from being injured, therefore making him the logical choice to spar with Nate.”

Before McGraw could argue further, Eric stepped onto the mat. His body transformed within moments until his tanned skin was replaced by the shimmering organic steel that was the gift of his mutation. He also gained about a foot of height making Brad suddenly feel short.

“Go sit down, Dave,” Eric growled, nudging McGraw aside when he still refused to leave the mat. “Stay out of everyone’s way before you get hurt.”

Brad couldn’t take his eyes off of Nate as he took on Eric. He wielded his shield like he’d been born with it. Brad had always been turned on by competence and Nate had an abundance of it. He deflected Eric’s powerful blows and delivered several of his own. Time and again he dragged the edge of the shield across parts of Eric’s body. The cuts would have been lethal to anyone not wearing armor. Brad could see Nate thinking several steps ahead, anticipating his opponent and planning his strategy.

He needed to get himself under control or everyone was going to know how turned on Nate made him.

Nate toppled Eric to the mat and immediately straddled his chest. He pressed the shield’s edge to Eric’s throat and waited. Smiling up at Nate, Eric tapped out.

Everyone cheered Nate’s victory, including Eric. He let his armor drop away and he returned to his normal height, letting Nate help him up from the mat.

“That’s enough for today, gentlemen,” Mike said. “Has everyone turned in their after-action reports from yesterday?”

Brad chuckled when everyone in the room grumbled – except Nate.

He’d just reached his rooms when his TV chirped at him. Patterson was calling. Brad answered and the screen filled with a disheveled Bryan Patterson. Just behind him, Rudy was unruffled but his expression looked annoyed. Fond, but annoyed.

“Bradley,” Patterson greeted. “I trust our friend was pleased with his gift?”

“He was very pleased, sir,” Brad replied. “I’m sure you’ll be receiving a ‘thank-you’ call in the very near future.”

“Of course he did,” Bryan said. “That’s some of my best work. Nothing those hacks back in the ‘40’s would have made for him could come close. Did Cap say anything about any modifications he might want?”

“Nate didn’t mention any. You’d have to ask him to be sure.”

“Also, I’m just about done with his costume and his motorcycle. Again, a hell of a lot better than anything they could have supplied him in ye olden days. I’ll have them delivered to your headquarters day after tomorrow.”

“Am I free to advise Nate of this?”

“Sure,” Bryan said, smirking.

“If you keep giving Nate special gifts he’s going to think you’re courting him, Brad,” Rudy said, smiling knowingly.

Brad bristled. “He knows these things aren’t from me,” he said emphatically.

“Relax, Brad,” Patterson chuckled. “It’s just a joke.”

“How _do_ superheroes court one another, Mr. Patterson?” Rudy asked, smiling wide.

“They get into fights on top of really tall buildings,” Bryan answered, straight-faced. He addressed Brad again, “Gunny tells me the two of you have narrowed your list of Red Skull suspects.”

“Affirmative,” Brad said, relieved to be back on safe conversational ground. “Senator Robert Kelly, Graydon Creed, and Stephen Ferrando.”

“Kelly and Creed could mastermind something like this but they’d put a minion in the suit,” Bryan mused. “Godfather though … he’d actually do something crazy like wear the Red Skull costume himself.”

“Mike and I agree,” Brad replied.

“Keep me posted, Brad,” Patterson said before abruptly terminating the transmission.

Brad headed for Nate’s rooms. He was eager to deliver the good news and saw no point in denying it – to himself, anyway.

There was no answer to his knock on Nate’s door. He went further down the corridor to Mike’s rooms.

“Have you seen Nate?” Brad asked when Mike answered.

“Not since we left the workout room.” Mike’s brow furrowed. “You two are practically joined at the hip, didn’t you leave together?”

Brad hid his annoyance. “I left him wrapping up his shield. I thought he’d be in his rooms by now. And Nate gets along just fine without my constant supervision.”

“Yeah, but how well do _you_ get along without _his_?”

Brad gave Mike the middle finger and started down the hall to the stairs. Mike’s laugh followed him to the second floor.

He was just outside the door of the workout room. It stood partially opened, caught on a crooked floor mat. Brad heard McGraw speaking rapidly, nearly breathless. Nate’s replies were quiet, his tone soft. It sounded placating.

“All superheroes will have to register eventually,” Dave said. “If you register now, voluntarily, it will look good for you.”

“Historically speaking, Dave,” Nate’s voice sounded calm but strained, “forcing a group of people to be registered for tracking and control purposes has not been a good thing.”

“Think of it as a club. A club for superheroes and _homo-superiors_.”

“Club’s are voluntary.” Nate’s annoyance bled through slightly. “The Committee is trying to make the SRA and Mutant Registration mandatory.”

“How else is the government supposed to protect us? How else are they supposed to replicate and regulate our powers?”

“Do you even hear yourself, Dave?”

“It’ll go better for you if you just cooperate.” Dave’s voice had turned decidedly hostile.

Brad clenched his fists and reached for the door.

“That almost sounds like a threat,” Nate said angrily. “What are you trying to say?”

“Hey, LT?” Brad called, forcing a casual tone. “Are you still in here?”

He pushed the door the remainder of the way open as if he had just arrived in search of Nate. McGraw jumped guiltily. He’d been standing in Nate’s space, leaning closer like he was trying to intimidate him.

Relief was obvious on Nate’s face when he saw Brad. “I was just leaving,” he said, quickly crossing to the door. “Do you need me for something?”

“Mike needs to see you upstairs,” he said, holding the door open for Nate and guiding him through with a hand at the small of his back.

Brad looked straight at McGraw. He saw anger, confusion and fear on Dave’s face. That was a dangerous combination in a man no one was sure was completely stable. He had trouble looking Brad in the eye. That shifty expression was what bothered Brad the most.

When he and Nate were on the stairs, Brad asked, “What the fuck was that all about?” he kept his voice low but didn’t bother to hide the anger.

“You heard that?” Nate hissed.

“Did Dave threaten you?”

“It was veiled but it certainly seemed that way.” Nate shook out his left hand absently.

“Is he really trying to pressure you into voluntarily registering with the SRA?”

“Yes,” Nate spat. “And he strongly implied that there is someone in particular about to take punitive action against all superheroes and mutants who don’t register voluntarily.”

Alarm bells sounded in Brad’s head. He needed to talk to Mike about this. “I’ll see if Gunny knows anything about it,” he said, seeking to steer the conversation away from Dave’s psychosis. “In the meantime, I got a call from Bryan Patterson.”

“Did you advise him I was very pleased with the shield?” Nate flexed the fingers of his left hand and rolled his wrist.

“Yes, sir. I also told him to expect a call from you directly. He informed me that the day after tomorrow, your costume and motorcycle will be delivered.”

“He told you that?” Nate asked, delight infusing his expression. “I hadn’t anticipated that it would be quite so soon.”

His words echoed Brad’s thoughts. It seemed presumptuous of Patterson to outfit Captain America for missions before Nate had made the decision to join the Defenders.

Realization struck Brad like a physical blow. He halted on the stairs and leaned back against the banister. “Were you going to tell me yourself?” he wasn’t able to keep the resentment out of his voice. “Or let me read about it online with everyone else?”

Nate paused a couple of steps ahead of Brad. He turned back, his expression confused. “Tell you what?”

“That you’ve agreed to stay on as a Defender.”

Nate looked surprised before one side of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Remind me not to underestimate your intelligence. It insults the both of us.”

Brad couldn’t help but chuckle. Warmth spread through his chest at Nate’s backhanded compliment.

“Patterson wants to make a big, splashy announcement during a press conference,” Nate explained. “I’ve come to realize that’s how he likes to do things.”

Brad resumed climbing the stairs, this time at a slower pace. “Did he say you couldn’t tell?” he asked. “I thought you considered us your friends.” He realized Nate’s answer mattered to him.

“I did. I do,” he replied, heatedly. “I guess I just …”

They crossed the landing and started up the next flight of stairs. “What?” Brad prompted.

“I didn’t want things to change,” Nate said, attention focused on the edge of his shield. “I enjoy living here. I enjoy everyone’s company. I was hoping to prolong it.”

Brad felt like he was missing something significant. “And how would things change? Given that you’ll continue to live here, having to endure everyone’s company.”

“It’s been your job to show me the benefits of becoming a Defender. You’ve convinced me that there are things in this world still worth defending and working for Bryan Patterson is the best way to do that.” Nate still hadn’t looked at him.

“That was never anyone’s _job_ , sir,” Brad said hotly. “Our job was to help you to become functional in this century. We _hoped_ that you’d want to stick around and join us. Walt works out with you and Espera talks your ear off because they like you. You don’t really think that’s going to change?”

When they reached the second floor landing, Nate stopped and finally looked right at Brad. He gave a heavy sigh that Brad thought sounded frustrated. “What about all the driving lessons, the quizzes you give me about my lessons for the day, the way we heckle the bad shows on television? You had a life, a routine, before you fished me out of the ocean. What’s to stop you from going right back to that, now that you know I’m staying?”

Brad’s heart slammed in his chest. He clenched his jaw and worked to control his breathing. He didn’t want Nate to see how affected he was by this conversation. He’d been so focused on convincing Nate to remain as a Defender, it had never occurred to Brad that Nate might actually enjoy the time they spent together. He had to be misreading the situation.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go for a motorcycle ride tomorrow,” Brad said languidly. “Make sure you were ready when your own bike got delivered.” It was true, as far as it went. Deflection had always been a formidable weapon. “Now though, I’m afraid you’ll think I’m only asking out of pity. I don’t want to be responsible for damaging your self-esteem.”

“You were?” Nate asked, pleasure hesitantly blossoming on his face. “You were going to ask me to go riding?”

“I was,” Brad answered truthfully. “But, if you’re eager to see me relieved of duties I wasn’t aware I had, Walt could certainly take you.”

“No! No,” Nate made a frustrated sound. “Brad, do _you_ want to go on a motorcycle ride with me? With Nate, not with Captain America.”

“Yes, I would like to go on a ride with you, Nate,” Brad said, smiling slightly and ignoring the way his stomach was doing back flips. “I think we should get an early start, before the heat gets too extreme. Meet me in the garage at sun up?”

“Okay,” Nate smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Together, they resumed their climb up the staircase.

“Any progress on identifying who’s taken up the Red Skull mantel?” Nate asked, flexing his left wrist forward and back a few times.

“Some, yes,” Brad answered. “We’ve narrowed it down to three people known to have issues with super-heroes or mutants.”

“You’re sure it’s not really Red Skull?” Nate didn’t sound convinced.

“Patterson has evidence that a proponent of the registration acts was getting ready to make a move against us.” Brad wanted to reassure Nate they had this under control, convince him they could handle this together. “Your sudden re-appearance simply gave them an idea on how to go about it; by resurrecting Captain America’s arch enemy.”

“So, this isn’t about me?” Nate asked hesitantly. “You’re not in danger because you rescued me?”

They had almost reached the third floor. Brad deliberately looked at Nate like he was losing his sanity. “This is not your fault, Nate,” he said emphatically. “Red Skull is after all of us. We’re a team. You’re a part of that team. We’ll face him and defeat him together. Understood?”

“Understood,” Nate answered wryly. At the top of the stairs, he headed for Mike’s rooms.

“Nate,” Brad called, “Mike doesn’t really need you for anything.”

Stopping in his tracks, Nate turned back toward Brad. “Did you affect an extraction of a teammate taking heavy enemy fire?”

“I did, sir,” Brad said, walking backward toward his own rooms.

“I’m impressed with your independent thinking and strategic planning.”

“You’re part of my team, sir. It’s my job to watch your six.”

 **_As Nate reaches for the door to his rooms, a twinge in his wrist causes him to wince. His attempt to mask his reaction fails …_ **

Brad strode down the hallway to Nate’s side. “Let’s get you inside so I can take a look at that wrist,” his tone was mild but it was an order nonetheless.

“It’s fine,” Nate insisted. “Just a strain.”

“And if that’s not the case, it’ll need to be treated.” Brad countered.

Nate set his shield just inside the door. He’d find a permanent place for it later, although it would most likely end up being stored in the command center after tomorrow. Brad led him over to the large window that had a view down the length of the mountain on which the mansion was perched. The summer heat grew more intense when Brad pushed back the drapes, letting the sun shine in brightly.

Nate stood placidly as Brad examined his wrist. He hoped the rapid beat of his pulse wasn’t obvious under Brad’s capable fingers. He watched those fingers press at soft areas of his arm as they tested for heat and swelling.

“I think I just overdid it,” Nate said, surprised at how rough his voice sounded. “The grip is slightly different and I was probably a little overenthusiastic.”

Brad made a thoughtful noise as he continued to manipulate Nate’s wrist.

Standing calmly, Nate hazard a glance at Brad. He was backlit by the sun and it haloed his blond hair. It washed his pale blue eyes nearly white. There was a slight frown of concentration between his brows but his mouth was soft and relaxed.

Nate wondered if Brad was relaxed enough to laugh. Not the sardonic laugh he gave to everyone else; the one that only engaged one side of his mouth. He at least wanted Brad to smile the wide, honest smile that showed off that endearing overbite that always made Nate lose his breath.

“You’ve got just a little swelling so you inflamed something,” Brad mused. “Sit down and I’ll ice it for you.”

Nate knew he should protest but he also knew he wouldn’t. He wanted Brad’s hands on him, even if it was clinical.

He settled on the couch and Brad joined him, setting two glasses and two bottles of soda on the table in front of them.

“Let’s review your lessons in modern military tactics from last week,” Brad said, the very beginnings of a smile showing. He pressed his hands together in a way that had become familiar to Nate. When he pulled them apart, a small ice sculpture sat in his palm. “This is?”

“A Humvee,” Nate replied.

“Correct,” Brad replied, dropping the ice into Nate’s glass. He pressed his hands together again.

“An LAV,” Nate identified the next sculpture Brad produced. It too, went into the glass. “An amphibious assault vehicle. A Super Stallion.” Nate reached for that newest sculpture. “Oh, that’s intricate,” he said, admiring the detail on the miniature ice helicopter. “A lot of detail.”

“You’re not the only one who does his homework,” Brad replied. It was always hard to tell but Nate thought Brad might look pleased with his reaction.

Brad poured Nate’s soda over the custom ice cubes and set it within his reach. Nate watched Brad flex his fingers and seconds later, both of his hands turned to ice.

“That is still the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Nate breathed. He held out his left wrist and Brad wrapped both of his hands around it.

“Watch the clock,” Brad said. “Twenty minutes.”

Nate noted the time. He watched the bubbles of his drink fizz and pop around the slowly melting ice sculptures. “It’s too bad they’re only temporary,” he said, hardly realizing he spoke aloud.

Brad looked at him quizzically.

With his right hand, Nate gestured toward his glass. “The little sculptures you make for me. It’s too bad they melt so quickly.” He paused, wondering how Brad would react to what else he wanted to say. “I wish I’d kept that first one you made for me. I wish I’d thought to put it in the tiny freezer compartment of my fridge.”

Nate glanced at Brad and waited. There was no reaction. Nate couldn’t see a twitch of Brad’s mouth, a widening of his eyes, or a flare to his nostrils. Brad’s fingers didn’t even tighten on his wrist. Nate would have thought his words had no affect on Brad whatsoever, except that he went very, very still.

“You should have said something,” Brad said mildly. “I’ll make you another one before I leave. It’s not difficult.”

Nate sighed inwardly. It was so fucking hard to read Brad Colbert. He gave nothing away in his expression or his voice. Nate had spent weeks feeling helplessly attracted to someone he thought was merely a caretaker. If Ray and Mike were to be believed, there just might be more going on here than Nate had dared to hope. If only he could be sure of Brad’s reactions.

“I’d like that,” Nate replied. He knew it was absurd but he really did miss that eagle, globe and anchor Brad had conjured into ice.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve discussed how you feel about all the things you’re learning and assimilating,” Brad said into the comfortable silence. “Last time we talked about how you felt about the twenty-first century and all the changes, you were disillusioned and disappointed. Has that changed?”

They’ve all told him that this right here; this concern Brad has expressed, that Nate find something about this century to like amongst all the darkness and negativity, was personal and not professional.

“That last time you caught me moping I’d just learned about Watergate,” Nate explained. “Like most people when it first happened, I thought it was the first time a President had been dishonest with us.”

“You don’t think Presidential dishonesty and scandal is unique to modern times?” Brad asked.

Nate watched him closely for any sign of what he was thinking or feeling. “I did until I got to Clinton. All the comparisons to Kenney’s alleged womanizing made me wonder. So I Googled.”

“You Googled?” Brad gave him the half smile. The one he gave to the world at large and could mean any number of things.

“I can Google, Brad,” Nate said, heavy with sarcasm. “It’s pretty much the first thing you taught me.”

When Brad glanced at Nate, he could see this smile reached Brad’s eyes at least. “And what, pray tell, did you Google?”

“I started with Franklin Delano Roosevelt and worked my way backward,” Nate answered. “You know, I met President Roosevelt a couple of times? I had no idea he was in a wheelchair. They were masters at hiding it.”

“What else did you learn?” Brad looked genuinely interested. It wasn’t much but it seemed to be an honest reaction.

“That Jefferson’s true love was his slave and that he fathered several children with her. Grant’s presidency was one big scandal – they didn’t even teach that when I was in school – Grover Cleveland fathered a child out of wedlock and paid to have the child put into an orphanage.” Nate sighed. “The men haven’t changed, just the way the media reports about them.”

“So you’ve made peace with it, then?” Brad wasn’t looking at him again. Nate began to wonder if that wasn’t the clue he was searching for.

“The things I’ve found I like about the modern world far outweigh the things that I don’t,” Nate proclaimed.

“What things do you like?” Brad’s crooked grin was back but he still wouldn’t look Nate in the eye.

“The fact that the Marine Corps is still alive and well and kicking ass; fast cars and motorcycles; fast food – yeah, I know that’s bad – color movies with that CGI trick; television – well, except for reality shows, what’s that even about? – rock and roll – you were right about Elvis; ice cream in flavors other than chocolate, strawberry and vanilla; medical advances like open heart surgery and limb reattachments, organ transplants, little girls growing up to be Secretary of State and Speaker of the House – is that enough or do you need more?”

Brad looked up and smiled – his real smile, the one that lit up his entire face. His full lower lip was shadowed slightly by his small overbite and Nate couldn’t help but smile in return. Then he noticed that Brad had pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth and suddenly Nate couldn’t breathe.

At times like this Nate wanted to crawl into Brad’s lap and straddle his hips. He wanted to press his mouth to that lower lip and run his tongue over that overbite and against Brad’s tongue. He just couldn’t be sure how Brad would react so Nate sat frozen on the couch beside him.

Suddenly remembering why it was Brad had his hands wrapped around his wrist, Nate glanced at the clock. “Twenty-five minutes,” he said hastily.

“Hm?” Brad asked, lifting one eyebrow. Nate wanted to run his thumb over that arched brow.

“I lost track of time, it’s been twenty-five minutes,” he explained.

“Oh.” Brad jerked his hands back and Nate felt strangely _colder_. Shaking his hands back to warm skin, Brad reached again for Nate’s wrist. “That should keep the swelling to a minimum. Ibuprofen will help with the pain and inflammation. If it gets worse, or even if it doesn’t get better, we’ll get Doc to come in and take a look at it.”

“Thank you, Brad,” Nate said, as Brad rose to leave. “For everything; whether it’s just your job or not.”

Brad turned and watched him inscrutably for several long moments. “My pleasure, sir,” he said, before turning toward the door. He had his hand on the knob when he suddenly turned back. “I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, cupping his hands.

Nate’s question died on his lips when he realized what Brad was doing. He took the eagle, globe and anchor from Brad when he offered it. Nate stared at it, once against amazed at the attention to detail. The small ice sculpture was already beginning to melt from the heat of his own hands, leaving the littlest water droplets on his skin. Nate was going to put it right into the tiny freezer so he could admire it whenever he wanted.

Nate looked up at Brad and smiled widely. “Thank you,” he said, knowing the words were inadequate for how the gift really made him feel.

For the second time that day Brad graced him with a complete smile, full of teeth and crinkled eyes. “You’re welcome,” Brad said, still smiling as he left the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Early the next morning, Brad and Nate are in the garage of the Defender’s headquarters as they prepare for their motorcycle ride …_ **

“Full face or brain bucket?” Brad asked.

“What?” Nate asked, his expression confused.

Brad held up a full helmet with tinted visor. “Full face?” he said, and held up the smaller helmet, designed to cover no more than the rider’s skull. “Or brain bucket?”

Nate smiled and Brad felt the familiar twinge in his chest. “Brain bucket.”

They were both dressed in faded jeans, tank tops and heavy boots. The coordination had been accidental, but it made sense given the weather. Nate carried a heavy leather jacket. Brad had been with him when he’d bought it. He knew first hand it did wonders for Nate’s broad shoulders and rounded ass.

“I thought we’d go down and pick up the 101, exit at Mulholland and take Malibu Canyon to PCH.” Brad explained the route he’d planned. “If you’re comfortable, we can head north on PCH to Oxnard. Then, we can come back either on the freeway or back down PCH.”

“If we’re going through Malibu, should we stop in at Patterson’s house?” Nate asked.

Brad snorted. “It’s too early in the morning. He’d fire us both for waking him up.”

Nate chuckled.

“I’ll let you pick which bike you want,” Brad said, gesturing toward the two parked Harleys.

“These are both yours?” Nate asked wonderingly.

“Yeah. But unlike you, I don’t get my transportation provided to me. I had to buy these myself.”

“Why is that? Bryan seems so generous.”

“Apparently, my ability to create my own transportation out of water vapor negates my need for fast and powerful motorcycles. I get a cash bonus, instead.”

Nate snorted. “How cruel of him.” He considered the two large motorcycles. “Have you modified either of them?”

Brad raised one eyebrow. Nate was too astute by half. “Yes, but don’t worry. I haven’t figured out how to make them fly, yet.”

“I’ll take the Wide-glide and leave the Fat Boy for you.”

“Someone did his homework.”

Nate sighed. “Seems like homework is all I do.”

“You absolutely need to get out of the house.”

They pushed the bikes out into the pale light of the early morning. The sun chose that moment to peek over a mountain. Nate slid on a pair of aviators. Brad shook his head, donning his own glasses that looked nearly identical.

“You’re the one who takes me shopping,” Nate said, one brow lifting above the frame of his glasses. “Your influence was bound to rub off.”

When they’d strapped on their helmets, Brad led Nate down the winding mansion driveway. Saturday morning traffic was light on the 101. Once they reached Malibu Canyon, Brad hung back, letting Nate take the lead. It was impressive to watch him settle into the rhythm of the road. Nate handled the large, heavy bike with the same ease and confidence he did everything.

Nate rolled to a stop at the sign in front of Pepperdine University, Brad pulled up to his left. The sun had fully risen and was warm on Brad’s back. It was still early enough that there were few cars on the roads.

“That was so fucking fun!” Nate declared. He took off his sunglasses and looked over at Brad. His wide smile was brighter than the morning sun and was better at heating Brad’s blood. “Where to now?’

“Well, sir,” Brad had no choice but to return Nate’s smile. “We can turn around and head home the way we came. Or, if you’re up for it, we can turn right and take PCH north until we hit the 101 again. Forty-five minutes if we ride the speed limit, all day if we take our time, stop for lunch and sight-see.”

Nate’s answer was to replace his aviators, put the bike in gear and pull onto PCH heading north.

Brad liked the way Nate thought.

He knew it defeated the purpose of a motorcycle ride to stop every few miles and admire the view. Still, it was summer in California and the sight of the Pacific Ocean crashing against the cliffs of Malibu was impressive. Nate didn’t mind. In fact, each time they crossed the south-bound lane to pull off the road and park, he took in the view with wide-eyed admiration.

“I surf, you know,” Brad heard himself say when they stopped the first time.

“You do?” Nate asked, looking at him with excitement. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You make your own surfboard, don’t you?”

“Excellent guess, sir,” Brad admitted. “But no. I surf the old fashioned way. Despite what you might assume, I actually enjoy the sun. Hard to get a tan when you’re made of ice.”

“I’m just a little bit before surfing’s time,” Nate joked. “At least on the east coast.”

“I could teach you,” Brad offered. He frequently saw Nate in swim trunks and Brad realized the physical contact it would take to teach him to surf could be … stimulating.

“Could you?” Nate’s smile was back and Brad realized that had been his goal. “Would you, I mean? Is it difficult?”

“You’ll catch on quickly,” Brad answered, realizing it was true. “Like you always do.”

At a lookout point several miles further north, Brad asked, “How caught up are you? Do you know what jet skis are?”

“I believe the technical name is personal watercraft,” Nate replied.

Brad smiled. “There isn’t much to learn about riding those. Is that something you might like to try?”

“Yeah, it sounds fun.” Nate glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Are all of your recreational activities water based?”

“I tried to make one of the motorcycles amphibious,” Brad teased, “but that was a no-go.”

Nate snorted. “Point.”

“I like rock climbing, if you’d like to give that a shot when the weather cools down.”

“I’d like that.”

They were well north of Malibu and the sun was high when Brad saw a good spot to pull over. The heat was intense without the wind they generated on the motorcycles. Brad hung his leather jacket on a handlebar and retrieved a bottle of water from his saddlebag. He’d tucked it into a thermal sleeve so it was still cold. Patterson had some really great gadgets.

“Thank you,” Nate sighed when he’d downed several large swigs.

Brad watched his throat as he swallowed, his mouth going dry again despite the water.

Nate laid his jacket over the seat of his bike. He stood beside Brad at the edge of the cliff. “That breeze feels fantastic. It’s fucking hot when we’re not riding.”

Brad glanced around and saw no traffic in either direction. He focused his energies and turned his right hand to ice.

Nate watched, shaking his head appreciatively. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amazed by that.”

Such easy acceptance still made Brad uneasy, after nearly a lifetime of hate and fear. “Tip your head forward and relax,” he said softly.

Nate complied and Brad carefully palmed the back of his neck. He pressed his thumb into Nate’s hair and against the base of his skull.

“That feels good,” Nate sighed, his shoulders dropping as he relaxed under Brad’s touch. “Why did you care so much whether or not I joined the Defenders?”

Brad wasn’t ready for that question. It caught him so off guard he was relieved that Nate’s eyes were closed. Of course he knew the answer. Brad just wasn’t sure exactly what Nate wanted to know.

“I was afraid the government would eat your soul,” he answered truthfully.

“You only needed to provide me with the relevant history and information,” Nate murmured. “I’m smart enough that I figured the rest out on my own.”

“Why did you decide to join the Defenders?” Brad asked, realizing he actually didn’t know the answer.

“I realized Patterson was right; the military would want to weaponize Captain America. That’s not why I signed up for Operation: Rebirth. For all of Patterson’s bluster, I identify with his values. I believe in the Defenders’ stated mission.”

Brad took Nate’s answer to mean that they were having a philosophical conversation. “He leaves us alone to execute our missions the way they should be. We perform to the best of our abilities and are amply rewarded for our skill and effectiveness. Not a bad gig.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Brad,” Nate said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear him over the pounding surf.

Brad swallowed against his constricted throat. “I believe you’re mistaken.”

“You claim you’ve just been doing your job but everyone tells me you’ve been going well beyond the scope of your responsibilities. I can only assume you had a significant reason for wanting me to remain with the Defenders. I’m aware you value competence. I suppose I’m wondering; if I hadn’t lived up to my reputation, once you started my training, would you have demonstrated less enthusiasm for my staying?”

Brad skimmed his fingers beneath the neck of Nate’s tank top, feeling the bones of his spine. “That possibility never crossed my mind,” Brad mused. “I just always believed your place was with us, as a part of our team.”

“Mmmm,” Nate sighed when Brad moved his hand back up to his neck. “I’m honored to be a part of your team.”

Something about the way Nate said that made Brad suspect there was more meaning there than the obvious.

“Honored to have you with us, sir.”

For a brief moment, Brad wondered what Nate’s reaction would be if he confessed everything. How would Nate feel if Brad admitted he just wanted to keep him close? Nate had seemed distressed at the idea that Brad was only spending time with him in order to convince him to join the Defenders. Would he be pleased if Brad admitted he wanted Nate to become a Defender so he could be around him?

“Why do you do that?” Nate asked, looking over at Brad. “Why do you call me ‘sir’?”

Brad withdrew his hand and shook it back to flesh. He hadn’t really thought about why they all addressed Nate that way. “I suppose it’s because you’re Captain America,” he answered, contemplatively. “The guys started calling you ‘sir’ and it just seemed to fit.”

“No, Brad,” Nate said, his gaze frank. “You were the first. The guys are just following your lead.”

Well fuck. “I respect and admire you, sir. I’m looking forward to following you into battle.”

“I believe it’s me who will be following you. You’re the one with a mutation that allows you to manipulate elements on a sub-atomic level. You’ve got a natural gift that you’ve turned into an enviable skill. I respect what you choose to use your skills for and I admire your loyalty to your fellow superheroes. I’m just the guy _you_ fished out of the North Atlantic.”

“You’re much more than that,” Brad said, voice rough with conviction.

Nate waved a hand negligently. “I guess we’ll see. I get my costume and my motorcycle tomorrow and appear at a press conference the day after to make it official.”

Brad nodded, at a loss for words. “Shall we hit the road?” he finally asked.

He and Nate suited back up in silence. As always though, the silence was companionable. Yet another thing he liked about Nate; he knew the value of a quiet moment.

They crossed Oxnard on the 1. Stopping at a service station for a cold bottle of water and a packet of Skittles to share, Brad contemplated their route home.

“We could head back the way we came and take all afternoon,” he said. “Or we can take the 101 back to Calabasas, make it in about thirty minutes, and go for a swim when we get home.”

Nate wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “That swimming pool sounds good. I vote for the quick route home.”

Brad couldn’t have agreed more.

 **_Later that evening, Brad seeks out Gunny and Poke for much needed counsel and assistance regarding U.S. Agent’s disturbing behavior …_ **

Brad knocked on Mike’s door and heard a gruff, “It’s open.” He turned the knob and found Poke taking up space in a large chair while Mike lounged on a sofa. They were both drinking beer.

“If frightens me to think what the two of you might be plotting,” Brad said, stepping into the room.

“We were lamenting the normal man’s feelings of inadequacy and how that results in the persecution and attempted annihilation of my people. Our people,” Poke said, gesturing between himself and Brad.

“Oh, I’m one of you now?” he asked, retrieving a beer from Mike’s fridge.

“In this one instance I accept you into my brotherhood of mutants,” Poke replied. “You are the whitest motherfucker I know. Have you ever thought about how white you are? You’re a tall-ass Aryan fucker whose mutation turns him into a big, white block of ice.”

“Don’t forget that I can create ice structures out of thin air. What is it you do? Oh, that’s right; you turn into a big blue kitty cat.”

Poke turned to Mike who was grinning. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, bro. Brad’s mutation turns him white; mine makes me a beautiful cat-of-color. Who is it stands in the back and orders me out front into the line of fire? That shit ain’t right.”

“It has nothing to do with color, Poke. You’re just not as good as me.”

Poke’s only reply was a sad shake of his head.

“What brings you to my domain tonight, Brad?” Mike asked.

“Gentlemen, I require your assistance with an internal matter. We need to keep McGraw as far away from Nate as possible. I can probably limit U.S. Agent’s contact with Captain America while we’re on missions but I can’t shadow Nate twenty-four hours a day.”

“Not for lack of tryin’,” Poke muttered into his beer.

Brad stilled at the comment.

“So Nate finally told you he’s stayin’ on as a Defender,” Mike said.

“No. I put the pieces together when Rudy told me they were delivering Nate’s costume and motorcycle tomorrow.”

“Like he was ever goin’ anywhere,” Poke muttered again and Brad ignored him.

“I take it from the all-day excursion the two of you took together, everything is squared away between you?” Mike asked.

“Don’t forget the cannon balls in the pool,” Poke interjected.

“I took Nate out on a Harley to check out his skill level in preparation for the delivery of his own bike,” Brad stated.

“Is _that_ what they’re calling it these days?” Poke asked.

Brad ignored him again. “And it was Ray and Kocher doing cannon balls.”

“Back to the subject at hand,” said Mike, “Nate’s a big boy, Brad. If McGraw is a pest, he’s more than capable of humoring him or telling him to go get fucked.”

Brad related the events of the previous afternoon and McGraw’s menacing pressure for Nate to voluntarily register with the SRA.

Poke and Mike exchanged a look.

“Alright, ladies,” Brad said with an exasperated sigh, “what do you two know that I don’t?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Brad,” Poke chided. “I’d say chill out but that’d just be redundant. It’s a new development that me and Mike were just discussing. You’re not out of the loop, dawg, but your timing is pretty fuckin’ scary.”

“Patterson and Espera have both been hearing disturbing rumors on the Hill,” Mike explained. “Someone’s preparing a big push on both the registration acts. There’s talk that whoever is behind it has managed to plant someone inside all of the superhero teams.”

“This bastard is thinkin’ that if he gets a few high-profile heroes and mutants to register voluntarily and publicly support the acts, it’ll help push them through,” Poke added.

“Fuck,” Brad hissed. “Imagine the press coverage they’d get if the newly resurrected Captain America came out for mutant and superhero registration.”

“Before today, I’dve just said Dave was misguided and excitable,” Mike said. “Now I gotta wonder.”

“Even if he’s not some kind of twisted double-agent, having access to the real Captain America has to be fucking with his head. How many times has he tried to _become_ Captain America?” Brad asked rhetorically.

“Why are you so worried about protectin’ Nate?” Mike asked, eyes narrowed. “He’s a day away from being an official Defender. He’s Captain-fucking-America! Explain this shit to him and have him report back on McGraw’s ramblings.”

Reality smacked Brad upside the head and he didn’t like the feeling. He’d wanted Nate to stay on and join the Defenders, never considering what it would feel like when they actually had missions. Brad didn’t like the idea of Nate in danger, face-to-face with super villains and super weapons.

He also knew that Nate would be pissed as hell at the idea of Brad wanting to protect him. If he were honest with himself, Nate didn’t need it.

“You two have the details. You should task him with it,” he said.

Mike nodded. “I’ll lay it out for him first thing tomorrow.”

“Any idea who’s pushing the acts?” Brad asked Poke.

“Nah, dawg,” he answered. “Same three suspects we’re already lookin’ at.”

“I don’t see Kelly willing to work close enough with a mutant to get spies inside any of the teams.”

Poke nodded his agreement. “Me and Patterson agree. Creed’s got a bigger hardon for mutants than folks with acquired superpowers, so it’s hard to imagine him pushing _both_ acts.”

“That leaves Ferrando,” Brad said.

“We’ve always had the feeling his rhetoric about maintaining a strong military for defense has always felt like camouflage for wanting the ability to stage a few invasions,” Poke said, looking at Brad askance.

“Reverse engineering weapons and soldier drones from superpowers and mutants would give him one hell of a motherfucking arsenal,” said Brad, his tone as dark as his mood.

“He could take over anything and anyone he wanted,” Mike observed. “A country getting too competitive in open trade? Invade. Want to ensure oil keeps flowing at a low cost? Invade. Don’t like the name a religion uses for its god? Invade. Found the perfect beach house? Why buy it? Take over the entire country.”

Brad quickly reviewed the encounter with Red Skull. Now that they were discussing Ferrando, something he remembered took on new significance. “Doesn’t Ferrando talk about himself in the third person?”

Poke snorted. “Yeah, constantly. And, he uses his own nickname. ‘Godfather will ensure the safety of all citizens with a strong military defense’,” he mimicked Ferrando’s distinct rasping voice.

“Red Skull did that,” Brad said, searching for the exact phrasing. “’Red Skull wants Captain America’ is what he said.”

The room fell silent.

“From the content of this discussion,” Brad asked carefully, “can I assume that Godfather is our primary suspect?”

“I think he is now, anyway,” Mike said, finishing his beer.

“I’ll have a talk with Patterson tomorrow.” Poke glanced at his watch. “It’s too late now, he’s probably out gettin’ laid.”

Mike snorted. “I don’t know how that fucker does it.”

“He’s Iron Man,” said Poke, like it was obvious.

“He’s got more money than god,” Brad corrected, draining his own beer.

“Well gents, time for you to get the hell out,” Mike said unceremoniously. “Got a long day tomorrow. One of the babies is getting his Christmas in July.”

“Hey, Brad? What’d you get Nate for Christmas?” Poke asked as Brad opened the door.

Before Brad could reply, Mike said, “He didn’t _get_ him anything, but I bet there’s still somthin’ he’d like to _give_ him.”

Brad glanced from Poke to Mike and realized he was outnumbered. He chose a tactical retreat. “Fuck you both,” he said, heading down the hall to his own rooms.

He ignored the fact that he could still see Nate’s light on beneath the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**_A quiet week has passed inside the Defenders’ luxurious mansion, since Captain America officially announced his membership in the team …_ **

It was late afternoon and Nate and Brad were sitting on opposite couches in Nate’s rooms.  Nate realized he needed a break from his lessons. His attention wandered too easily and his temper was growing short. Flopping onto a lounge chair next to the pool held great appeal right now. As did the idea of seeing Brad half naked and dripping water.

“I know why you told me when you did,” he said to Brad. “I’m simply saying that learning of 9/11 _before_ I learned that we bombed Japan has affected how I view both events. I don’t want to hear _act of war_ vs. _act of terror_ ,” Nate snapped when Brad started to speak. “That fact is, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were strictly civilian targets, Brad. We did it first.”

“Nate,” Brad started again.

“No,” Nate cut him off. “I might view it differently next week but right now it’s how I see things. We did it first. My government _really was not_ what I thought it was.”

“I think it’s time for a break,” Brad said carefully.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you five minutes ago,” Nate said, throwing up his hands. “Now go change into your bathing suit … I mean swim trunks. The sun and pool are calling my name.”

Before Brad could stand, alarms began to sound throughout the mansion. Nate sat up as his television flashed to life. Three men in suits appeared onscreen. Along the bottom, Nate could see smaller boxes, each of which contained a feed of one of the other defenders. Nate would have found the fact that Ray and Walt were together humorous, except that he knew everyone else was thinking the same about he and Brad.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bryan Patterson greeted. He was sat at a long table along with two other men. “There’s a crises at LAX you need to handle but first, we have some business to take care of.”

“Can we make this quick?” one of the men on screen asked Patterson.

“This’ll just take a minute,” Bryan responded with a gesture of irritation. “Since your little group was first formed several years ago, very little has changed. You’re all founding members and you’re all still valued members of the team. Now, we have the honor of the addition of Captain America to the group. It’s a new dynamic and a new era. So, as of this moment, the Defenders will now be known as the Avengers.”

“Is that really necessary, sir?” Brad asked, leaning toward the screen. “We just managed to teach Ray how to spell Defenders. It might be too much for him to have to learn a second word.”

“Yeah, fuck you, Brad,” Ray pressed his face right up to the screen, distorting his features. “You’re just jealous cause I can recite all of last year’s NASCAR stats.”

“We need to move this along,” said the second man with Patterson.

“Okay, time to act like grownups, I guess,” Bryan groused. “Anyway, you’re needed for a serious mission. Captain America’s Avengers, prepare to copy.”

“Fuck,” Nate whispered, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders. He’d told Patterson not to do that. He felt his face warm with the flush of embarrassment. Nate was acutely aware of Brad’s presence, even more so than usual. He couldn’t bring himself to glance over and see what he was sure was Brad’s mocking expression.

“Avengers are standing by,” Gunny replied sternly. “Go with the mission, sir.”

“Avengers, with me today are the Directors of the FAA and Homeland Security, respectively.” Patterson gestured toward each of the two men. “Red Skull has taken over LAX, blocking all radio communication between the ground and circling flights.”

“Shit,” Nate whispered.

“He’s specifically demanding that Captain America face him in the Theme Building,” Bryan continued. “Obviously, I’m still in D.C., or I’d respond with you. The FAA and Homeland Security are requesting the Avengers handle this, along with Captain America.”

“Why me, specifically, sir?” Nate asked. “Any idea, yet?”

“None,” Patterson replied. “He’s not allowing the Air Traffic Controllers to land the planes, Nate. He’s got them in terminal holding patterns. Just take him the fuck out. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

“Roger that, sir.” Nate acknowledged.

“Red Skull has taken over the Control Tower and the Theme Building. Somehow he’s jamming all communication, on the ground and in the air. He’s got Sleepers completely surrounding both buildings and holding off any attempted response. You have any and all resources you may need at your disposal.”

“I assume our priority is to land the planes safely, get everyone out of the terminals without casualties?” Nate asked, realizing as he did that it was a question Brad ordinarily would have asked. He hadn’t wanted the team named for him yet here he was, acting like he was the one in charge.

“That’s affirmative,” Patterson confirmed. “Once you’ve accomplished that, make sure you catch this asshole. He’s starting to annoy me.”

“Understood,” Nate replied, wondering if Brad was bothered that he was asserting himself.

“We’ll be watching, Avengers. Good luck and stay safe.”

“I told him not to change the name,” Nate said, as soon as the television went dark. “He told me he wouldn’t. I was assured he wouldn’t change our name. He assured me of this.”

Brad chuckled and gestured for Nate to precede him out the door. “I have no doubt, sir.”

“And I didn’t mean to step all over you if you had questions you wanted to ask Patterson,” Nate said, as they took the stairs two at a time. He ran a hand over the back of his head, again avoiding Brad’s gaze. He just wanted to work as part of a team and do some good for people. He didn’t want to be the center of attention and he sure as fuck didn’t want the team named for him.

“You asked exactly what we needed to know, _Lieutenant_ ,” Brad replied.

“I’m not _your_ Lieutenant,” Nate shot back.

“No, but you are my Captain.” Nate started to contest but Brad cut him off, “We’ll discuss it after the mission, Nate.”

They rode the elevator to the command center in silence. The rest of the Avengers were already there and waiting.

As soon as Nate stepped off of the elevator, Dave McGraw pounced. “Congratulations, Nate,” he said, pumping Nate’s hand vigorously. “We’ll whip this team into shape. We’ll be the best superheroes anywhere.”

“Thank you, Dave,” he said, tugging his hand free and trying not to let his distaste show. If their suspicions about McGraw were correct, he would bear close watching.

Eric appeared behind Dave, steering him away from Nate and saying something to him as he did. Whatever Eric said, it was enough to frighten McGraw into compliance.

“Ain’t that just like the white man? Takin’ care of his own,” Poke said derisively, even as he smiled. “I been a Defender for what? Several years, now. Do I get a team named after me? Hell no. Fish a white boy outta the ocean and a couple months later, he’s the boss.”

“Guys, I didn’t _ask_ for this,” Nate declared, hands raised in supplication.

“It explains a lot,” Ray said conversationally to Walt. “Now we know exactly whose dick he’s been sucking.”

Walt snorted and shook his head.

“Ray, shut the fuck up,” Brad said darkly.

“Gentlemen, I’ve got specs of the airport up,” Mike called from across the room. “Would anyone care to come plan your mission? Or are you just gonna stand there Facebooking about who stole whose boyfriend?”

“After you, Cap,” Brad said.

Nate crossed to the console where Mike had technical specs and photographs displayed. “I’m just another member of this team. I’m not in charge. Brad, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t continue to plan the missions.”

“Due respect, sir,” Poke said, “does your resume list specialty training in military strategy?”

“It does,” Nate replied hesitantly.

“Well none of the rest of these fuckers can claim that. So, white privilege and dick sucking aside, how ‘bout you plan the missions from now on?”

Nate hazarded a glance at Brad. He was as smooth featured and unreadable as always. For one moment, Nate wanted to punch him. Brad glanced up and down Nate’s body, assessing, before meeting Nate’s eyes with a smirk. 

It was a challenge, a dare, and acquiescence all in one.

“Gunny, let me see the airport layout,” Nate ordered.

Mike enlarged the specs and indicated the Theme Building where Red Skull was holding off all authorities, as well as the control tower they would need to access in order to restore communications. Nate formulated a strategy and plan of attack. He then turned the map around. As a team, they viewed the plan from Red Skull’s point of view, searching for weaknesses.

“It can’t be helped, sir,” Brad said. “It’s the best plan we can form. We’ll just have to get on scene, adapt and overcome as we gather additional intel.”

“I agree. A good plan executed well is better than a better plan executed poorly, or too late to matter. Does everyone concur?” Nate asked.

“Fuck yeah, let’s get some,” Ray crowed. “That red-faced motherfucker won’t know what hit him.”

“Alright,” Nate said, “let’s suit up.”

At the opposite end of the command center were the changing cubicles for the team. Inside each was a costume, waiting for its owner. Two held black leather for Colossus and Beast. One held a golden hawk emblazoned on a black field, accompanied by Nighthawk’s large set of wings. Another contained the red, white and black suit and shield of U.S. Agent. One more contained the black and purple leather of Hawkeye’s costume. A final cubicle waited for Nate, holding his red, white and blue suit and shield.

He’d tried it on for fit the day it had been delivered. This would be the first time he’d wear it, since being retrieved from an ice block in the North Atlantic. Nate took a deep breath and stepped into the cubicle.

He closed the door and a light flickered on. Carefully, reverently, Nate pulled on his Adamantium armor, worn beneath his costume. Next, he stepped into the form fitting, fire-resistant flight suit. He tugged the blue leather up over his hips, then pulled the zipper to close the white torso of the suit. Over his shoulders, he settled the blue chest piece that also covered his shoulders. A quick glance in the mirror showed the star emblazoned on his chest stood out prominently, as planned. The gray restraining straps of the chest piece latched into the red straps on the lower half of the suit. He was ready for all manner of transportation this way; land, sea or air. Finally, Nate laced the black leather boots over his calves.  He left his blue leather helmet off, planning to slip it on just before they stepped off. Nate secured his utility belt around his waist before pulling on his gloves.  Satisfied, he grabbed his helmet and shield, and stepped out.

The rest of the team was dressed and waiting for him. Brad, still flesh and bone, leaned back against a table. When Nate emerged, Brad smiled at him. Hawkeye began a round of applause and the others quickly joined in.

Pushing off from the table, Brad crossed to him. Reaching for Nate’s helmet, Brad asked, “May I do the honors?”

Nate’s mouth was suddenly dry as dust at the thought of Brad’s strong hands tugging his helmet into place. He nodded his permission, realizing he wanted the feel of Brad’s warm skin on his face.

Reverently, Brad settled the helmet over Nate’s head, ensuring it was snug over his skull. Gently, he slid the mask piece down over Nate’s face. With a satisfied nod, Brad stepped back. Nate could see perfectly through the eye holes, his nose and lower face uncovered and comfortable. Nate took a deep breath.

“Can we go kick some super villain ass now, sir?” Nighthawk whined.

“Saddle up, team,” Nate ordered. “We’re oscar-mike.”

All around them, superheroes scattered and ran, whooping, for their SkyCycles. U.S. Agent looked as though he wanted to linger with Nate but Brad sent him a quelling look and he, too, ran for his cycle.

When they were alone, Nate confessed, “I’ve never done this as part of a team before.”

“Having a team means you don’t face the danger alone,” Brad replied. “You always have someone watching your six.”

“I’ve never _led_ a team, Brad. What if I fuck it up?”

“I have faith in your leadership, sir.”

It was on the tip of Nate’s tongue to ask if he could count on Brad to be there if he should start to fall apart. Brad was looking right at Nate, meeting his eyes unwaveringly and Nate saw the answer was already there. He didn’t have to ask because Brad had already promised.

Shifting his grip on his shield, Nate inclined his head in Brad’s direction, silently encouraging him to trigger his mutation. Brad took a deep breath and never dropped his eyes from Nate’s gaze. In the span of two heartbeats, Brad became Iceman.

“Mom! Dad! Can we go now?” Nighthawk shouted across the command center.

“Comms are active,” Mike called. “I’ll monitor the situation at the airport and update you as needed.”

“Thanks, Gunny,” Nate called, climbing onto his own SkyCycle and stowing his shield. He watched the large door roll up and Iceman step to the entrance. Nate took a steadying breath.

Racing along Iceman’s slide with the entire team of Defenders – no, Avengers – was nothing like all of their practice runs. It was louder, more exhilarating. Iceman’s effortless creation of the slide as he navigated them over the streets and structures of Los Angeles was impressive. Nate forced himself to shift his attention off of Iceman and think ahead to the upcoming encounter at the airport. As important as it was to neutralize Red Skull, their unequivocal priority was to get the planes down out of the sky safely and the terminals evacuated.

Iceman brought them into LAX from the north. They glided to a halt behind the cover of several large airplane hangars. Nighthawk landed with surprising grace beside their assembled group, furling his wings quickly. Nate unhooked his shield from its place on his SkyCycle. Iceman was already constructing two tall ladders that led to the roof of a hanger.

“Captain America for Station M,” Nate hailed. “We’re on scene.”

“ _Roger that_ ,” Mike answered. “ _Red Skull is still holding occupants of Encounter Restaurant hostage and demanding you hand yourself over to him there. Long Beach, John Wayne and Ontario airports are all clear to accept re-routed flights if you can communicate this to the circling planes._ ”

“Solid copy. Have any civilians been injured, yet?”

“ _Negative._ ”

“Any idea how many of these Sleepers he’s got deployed here?”

“ _Unknown. Be advised; they’re inside the terminals as well, preventing anyone from leaving._ ”

“Roger that. Thanks, Gunny.”

The Avengers climbed to the roof of the hangar. They collected at the ledge, a clear view of the airport structures sprawled before them. The scene was surreal. An army of Sleepers stood guard at the bases of the Theme Building and control tower.

“Where’s he getting so many Sleepers?” Hawkeye asked.

“Imagine what he could mass produce if he had unlimited access to mutant and super powers,” said Beast.

“Nighthawk,” Nate called, “you ready to land some airplanes?”

“I’ll route the ones I can to the alternate airports and land the ones I can’t,” he confirmed.

“Good. You’ve got four runways – two north of the terminals, two south - and don’t let them taxi,” Nate added. “We can’t have more hostages inside the terminals.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Once the planes are all safe, rendezvous right back here with Hawkeye. If he needs help, do what you can. If the battle lasts until sundown and your powers activate, help Colossus and Beast.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Hawkeye,” Nate called.

“Captain,” he answered. “I brought acid arrows, electrical arrows, blast and magnesium flare arrows, plus a limited number of thermal arrows.”

“Like we planned,” said Nate, “decimate the number of Sleepers the best you can. Use the electrical and magnesium flare arrows when firing close to one of us. If we’re clear, use what you think is best. Save the blast and thermal arrows for last resort.”

“Yes, sir,” Hawkeye replied, pulling several arrows from his oversized quiver.

“Colossus, Beast – I hate to keep using you guys as muscle,” Nate said.

“My people are used to being cannon fodder,” Beast said, his canines showing as his feline-like mouth parted in a smile.

“So, we clear the way for you and Iceman,” Colossus summarized, “then try to start clearing the terminals.”

“If you can,” Nate confirmed. “You might have your hands full keeping us from being overrun by these things.”

“I’ll be holding them off you, sir,” Hawkeye called confidently.

“I can start clearing the terminals once the planes are landed,” Nighthawk said.

“Don’t put yourself at risk before your powers kick in,” Nate cautioned, before turning to Iceman. “You know what to do?”

“Get into the control tower and figure out how Red Skull is jamming communications,” he replied. “If I’m able, shut it off and let the Air Traffic Controllers re-route the circling aircraft.”

“Excellent,” Nate concluded. “Let’s step off, gents.”

“Sir, I still maintain that I should accompany you to _Encounter_ ,” Iceman said tensely, refusing to let go of the argument he’d made back at the command center.

“The safety of the civilians is our priority, so the majority of our resources will be focused there,” Nate said firmly, using his tone to end the conflict once and for all. “If that’s accomplished before I’ve neutralized Red Skull, we’ll redistribute troop disbursement.”

“Yes, sir,” Iceman said stiffly.

“Alright, gentlemen,” said Nate, “we’re oscar-mike.”

Nighthawk launched himself off the top of the hangar, clutching a red xenon lamp he planned to use to communicate with the pilots of the airplanes. Nate watched his wings carry him rapidly upward and nearly out of sight.

Hawkeye launched several arrows at the sea of Sleepers. There were small explosions in the distance, several of the hulking figures falling down and not getting up.

Colossus and Beast leapt from the hangar and charged the line of Sleepers. As planned, they targeted the area weakened by Hawkeye’s arrows. The initial collision of the battle was audible and Nate winced slightly. Hawkeye continued his hail of arrows, aiming deeper into the grouping of Sleepers, thinning their ranks all the more.

“Shall we join the festivities, sir?” Iceman asked, even as he conjured a narrow ice ramp leading to the ground.

“I’ll be on your six,” Nate replied with a nod.

Iceman literally surfed the ice ramp to the ground. Nate stepped onto the ramp, dropped to a crouch and followed. He still wasn’t comfortable doing this. Brad had spent hours teaching him how to negotiate ice structures efficiently but he didn’t feel as graceful as Iceman looked.

Nate managed to reach the ground without mishap and he and Iceman took off running across the tarmac. A Sleeper turned to engage them and Nate launched his shield at its head. The spinning colors sliced through metal and wires before circling back their direction. He caught it out of the air and readied for another attack.

Beside him, Iceman aimed a blast of ice and water that took out several Sleepers at once. They crashed to the pavement, twitching and sparking.

“That’s an impressive move, Cap,” Iceman said, indicating Nate’s shield. “Glad to see that thing’s more than just an oversized tie clip.”

“Can you create anything useful other than a pretty snow storm?” Nate countered.

Iceman’s response was to pull a blade-shaped icicle and plunge it into the neck joint of a Sleeper as they ran past. A second one loomed in front of them. This time, when Iceman sank the ice blade, he turned it to water just before releasing it. The result was an elaborate shower of sparks.

“Nice,” Nate said, using his shield to behead one Sleeper and slice a second in half.

“Get behind me, sir,” Iceman yelled, lifting both hands, palm out, in front of him.

“What? Why?” Nate demanded, fearing Iceman might be getting too protective.

“No time, just follow behind me,” Iceman snapped.

Nate stopped over-thinking and stepped in line behind Iceman. He watched a huge wall of ice form in front of them and bend around to their sides. It acted as a barrier against attacking Sleepers. He followed in Iceman’s footsteps as they progressed forward. Sleepers punched and hacked at the ice wall, easily inflicting damage. It held long enough for the two of them to get by.

Realizing what Iceman was doing, Nate was impressed. Colossus and Beast had punched a hole through the Sleeper’s lines but it was slowly filling back up. Iceman was pushing them quickly through the hole while it still existed, before they would have to battle too hard to punch through a second time.

“Get the Captain into the Theme Building,” Iceman shouted to Colossus and Beast.

“Negative,” Nate countered. “That’s a no-go. Civilians are our priority. We need to get Iceman into the control tower.”

Iceman stood tensely, staring at Nate. He could tell Iceman wanted to argue further. If Nate had to guess, he’d say Iceman didn’t like the idea of being in the relative safety of the control tower while Nate battled his way into the Theme Building.

While he still appeared to want to argue, Iceman finally turned toward the control tower. Colossus and Beast cut a swath through the Sleepers while Nate and Iceman watched the rear.

Just before Iceman slipped into the building, Nate said, “I’m glad you’re the one tasked with this. I trust you to unfuck the comms quickly.”

Iceman nodded once and was gone.

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to be facing Red Skull alone?” Beast asked as the three of them punched and slashed their way across the compound to the Theme Building.

“No choice,” Nate answered. “If I no-show, I put innocent civilians in danger. The rest of you need to concentrate on getting those civilians out of here and somewhere safe.”

“We can pull Hawkeye in to cover you,” Beast offered as they reached the public door to the Theme Building.

“Negative. He needs to keep reducing the numbers of Sleepers,” Nate replied. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s your call, sir,” Beast said, even as he ripped electronic guts from an advancing Sleeper. “Good luck.”

The sounds of the battle raging outside were muted when the door closed behind him. Nate had no doubt that Red Skull knew he was here. Stealth wasn’t necessary but caution was critical as he made his way to _The Encounter_ _Restaurant_ on the top floor. There was every chance of a trap or an ambush.

Nate took the stairs slowly and carefully. The idea of taking the elevator made him feel as though he’d be stepping right into a kill zone. Once he was outside the entrance to the restaurant, Nate slowly pressed the door open entirely. It swung back against the inside wall and he was assured no threat stood behind it.

The restaurant was full; patrons all seated at tables. A tense silence hung over the room. Nate looked around, finally spotting Red Skull where he stood looking out one of the over sized window. How he was keeping the occupants of the room from fleeing wasn’t immediately evident. Nate scanned the room, looking for signs of weapons or explosives, expecting at least armed Sleepers. He saw nothing.

“Good of you to join us,” said a deep, raspy voice.

“You didn’t leave me much choice,” Nate replied. Red Skull was silhouetted against the window so Nate couldn’t get a clear look at him. He appeared to be dressed in a black suit. The hideous red skull mask covered his entire head. “I’m here now, though. The civilians should evacuate the building.

Several people started to rise from their seats. Before they could stand fully, Red Skull lifted one hand, displaying a small black box.

“Red Skull wishes them to remain where they are,” the raspy voice carried throughout the room. “There is Dust of Death in the ventilation system. A press of this button releases it into the air and everyone dies.”

“Understood,” Nate said calmly, even as he swore silently to himself. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. “Let’s just all stay calm.”

“I see you have a team of superheroes bearing your name, now,” Red Skull said, as if Nate hadn’t spoken.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, confused. He wished Red Skull would turn so he could see his face.

“Patterson is placating you by naming the team after you. Not for a single moment will he allow you to lead the team. You’ll remain under his thumb, no matter what he tells you.”

Nate narrowed his eyes, wondering where this was going. He was a Marine. He was comfortable within the structure of a chain of command. “It has been my experience that Bryan Patterson is an effective commanding officer. The current arrangement is sufficiently satisfying.”

Red Skull finally turned away from the window and faced Nate across the room. He appeared to have a cigarette in a long holder clenched between his teeth. “What could you do if you had access to every mutant and super power in existence, with the ability to replicate those powers almost endlessly? How many lives could you save? How many despots could you overthrow? Think of the atrocities you could prevent by simply putting the fear of possible repercussions into them.”

“That’s quite a magnanimous goal,” Nate replied, stalling for time. “But tell me, what happens to the superheroes and mutants once you’ve stripped them of their powers?” He wanted this intel, but more importantly, he needed to strategize a way to get the civilians out unharmed. Slowly, he started to circle the room in order to have both the egress and his adversary in sight.

Red Skull answered quickly. “They’re allowed to return to normal lives, free of the stigma that comes with being a freak. They’ll be allowed to live in peace within the borders of the country maintaining the most powerful, and most obedient army the world has ever known. And you, Captain America, will be commanding them.”

The elevator chimed the car’s arrival on their floor. Briefly, Nate wondered if it might be Iceman but Red Skull wasn’t alarmed by the newcomer.

Nate wasn’t surprised when U.S. Agent stepped off the elevator.

“Red Skull, sir,” he said breathlessly as he charged forward. “Nighthawk has managed to safely land a few of the planes. Iceman has restored transmitting capabilities to the tower, although they still can’t receive. Beast and Colossus have made it into P2 and are evacuating civilians.”

“A little faster than I’d anticipated,” Red Skull said, giving Nate a hard look. “You are quite the motivator of men, aren’t you, Captain? This is why Red Skull needs you in charge of his army.”

“Does the rest of the team know you’ve turned on them and abandoned them to the fight?” Nate asked U.S. Agent.

That stopped him in his tracks. His blue eyes looked stunned and confused behind his hood. “Don’t you understand, Captain? This is our chance to make the world a perfectly peaceful place. No one will be able to challenge our authority. U.S. Agent and Captain America, enforcing peace throughout the world.”

By the time he was done, U.S. Agent’s eyes looked that much crazier.

“You have to admit you’re tempted,” Red Skull said.

“I refuse to speak further on this until these people are released,” Nate indicated the restaurant patrons sitting tensely at the tables around them.

“They’re not in danger unless you intend to fight me, Captain? You wouldn’t wage a battle with Red Skull that would put civilians in danger, would you?”

“Hiding behind civilians? Really?” Nate jeered. He needed to provoke Red Skull; just not enough that he released the Dust of Death.

“Red Skull doesn’t have to hide behind anything,” U.S. Agent declared agitatedly.

“Then he shouldn’t have a problem letting all of these good people go,” Nate said carefully.

Blue eyes glared hard at Nate from behind the skull mask. “Show the good people out, U.S. Agent,” Red Skull finally said.

“Yes, sir,” U.S. Agent acknowledged the order crisply. He began to grab patrons and propel them roughly toward the exits

“Calmly,” Nate shouted to the suddenly fractious crowd. “Stay calm and exit the building slowly.”

Those that couldn’t fit in the elevator pushed their way into the stairwell. Nate continued to caution them to remain calm and not to run or shove. He was sure there would be injuries by the time they all made it out. Still, they were better off than they would have been sitting between himself and Red Skull.

When the room was quiet once again, Red Skull tossed the small black box to the floor. Nate’s heart leapt to his throat, fearing Dust of Death was about to rain down on him.

“They’re sheep,” Red Skull said derisively. “Show them a small box and tell them there’s a toxic substance ready to be released and they cower. Useless.”

Nate struggled to hide his relief. “Are you proud of your ability to frighten people with empty threats?” he snapped.

“I must admit, Red Skull is disappointed. I expected that a natural leader like yourself would understand; I thought you would be eager for a chance to make the world a better place.”

“At the expense of the individuals who live in this world?” Nate shook his head.  “Your spy did a very poor job of feeling out my value system.”

“Of course. My spy.” Red Skull clasped his hands behind his back and stared sharply at Nate. “Am I to assume the majority of intel U.S. Agent has passed on to me is in fact, disinformation?”

“That would be a safe assumption, yes,” Nate confirmed. “I do not advocate the identifying and mandatory registration of superheroes and mutants. Furthermore, I do not believe you intend to allow anyone to lead a peaceful and normal life after you’ve extracted their powers. My Avengers and I _will_ stop you, Secretary Ferrando.”

Nate thought he saw surprise in the blue eyes behind the red mask. “Red Skull doesn’t know who this Secretary Ferrando is.”

“If that’s how you prefer to play it.” Nate sensed he had Red Skull off balance now.  He decided to press his advantage. “However, with Iceman this close to restoring tower communication, and the rest of my team annihilating your Sleepers and evac’ing civilians, it’s in your best interest to surrender now.”

“Red Skull has no intention of surrendering.” His tone was arrogant. “I had hoped that my team could be led by the original Captain America. However, it’s not necessary. Anyone in the costume will do.”

Nate tensed at the implied threat. He wasn’t sure if it would come from U.S. Agent, or Red Skull himself. He tightened his grip on his shield.

A looked passed between Red Skull and U.S. Agent and Nate acted. Before either could anticipate his move, he launched his shield at U.S. Agent.

Whatever attack the Agent would have made was forestalled when he had to deflect Nate’s flying shield. Unfortunately, the defensive move changed the shield’s trajectory. Instead of returning to Nate’s position, it carried in Red Skull’s direction.

He saw the incoming danger but Red Skull didn’t have enough time to react. He attempted to turn and evade but the shield still clipped him in the back of the head. Red Skull dropped like a stone, screaming and writhing in agony. Nate’s shield ricocheted again, shattering the glass of one of the large windows.

Nate was already on the move. He launched himself across the room toward U.S. Agent. He anticipated a difficult hand-to-hand battle when he reached U.S. Agent, but it never happened. The surprise of Nate’s attack and the ensuing chaos appeared to be too much. U.S. Agent stared at Nate, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

Even as Red Skull began to scream, Nate shoved the Agent’s shield down with one hand and delivered a solid punch to his jaw with the other. When U.S. Agent stumbled backward, Nate wrenched his shield from him. Before he could regain his balance, Nate drove the edge of the shield into U.S. Agent’s gut. He fell to his knees with a whoosh of air.

Red Skull’s screams drew Nate’s attention. He turned to assess the threat or render aid, whichever was necessary. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Red Skull had clawed his mask from his head and now lay twisting on the floor in agony. Nate was horrified to realize that Red Skull’s skin was turning bright red, nearly matching the fiery shade of his discarded mask. His hair was falling away from his scalp in clumps, leaving behind shiny, smooth skin.

“What’s happening to him?” U.S. Agent shrieked from where he lay on the floor. “Help him! You have to help him!”

Nate couldn’t tear his eyes away. “We’ll get him help,” he said distractedly.

The stairwell door crashed open and Nate spun around to assess the new threat. He relaxed slightly when he saw Iceman; Nighthawk on his heels.

“Lose something, sir?” Iceman asked.

It was then Nate realized Iceman was carrying his shield. He must have retrieved it from where it had landed after breaking through the window.

“Something’s wrong, he needs help,” U.S. Agent sounded as though he was near tears. “You have to help him.”

“What happened here?” Iceman asked, handing Nate his shield as he stepped past to get a closer look at Red Skull.

“My shield struck him before breaking out the window. I have no idea what’s causing this transformation.” Nate answered.

Red Skull rolled onto his back. He clawed at his own face. Whatever was wrong with him, it was eating away at the cartilage of his nose. Now, he truly looked like a red skull.

Kneeling carefully beside Red Skull, Iceman picked up the discarded cigarette holder. He looked at it closely, sniffing it carefully. “Dust of Death,” he said, dropping the holder as if it had scalded him.

“How is that shit still around?” Nate demanded.

“It’s not used as much these days, but given this Red Skull’s tactics, I can’t say I’m surprised he intended to use it,” Iceman said.

“I thought that was a cigarette holder.”

Iceman glanced up at him. “I would wager this dose was intended for you, sir, in the event you opted not to join his army.”

“He’s dying,” U.S. Agent wailed. “You have to help him.”

“Nighthawk,” Iceman called, “get Hawkeye and clear path through the Sleepers for an EMS rig.”

“Roger that,” Nighthawk said. He crossed to the broken window and stepped out. A flap of his wings and he was airborne.

“Iceman, do you have a sit-rep on Colossus and Beast?” Nate asked.

“They’ve cleared P2, P3, P4 through six and Bradley,” he replied, referencing the name for the international terminal. “They only have P7, P8 and P1 left.”

A violent explosion sounded outside. The concussion shattered several more windows and knocked Nate and Iceman off their feet.

“What the fuck was that?” Nate asked.

“Best guess?” Iceman asked, even as another blast rocked them, raining down more glass.

Nate and Iceman pressed themselves to the floor, doing their best to protect themselves from the glass shards.

“Hawkeye’s thermal arrows, or possibly the blast arrows.” Brad finished his earlier thought. “If a force of Sleepers is threatening this building, he’d be trying to hold them off.”

Nate caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He focused on U.S. Agent, costume shredded by flying glass, hauling Red Skull toward the open windows in a dead man’s carry.

“Iceman, stop him,” Nate shouted. They both gained their feet and dashed toward the windows. They didn’t make it in time to stop U.S. Agent from tossing himself, and Red Skull, out of one of the shattered windows.

“What the fuck?” he asked, bewildered.

As Nate and Iceman watched, several Sleepers eased the landing of the falling pair. Even as U.S. Agent got to his feet, one of the Sleepers began to walk off, carrying the limp form of Red Skull.

“Shit,” Nate hissed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here so Hawkeye can do what he has to, to halt their retreat.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Nate triggered his comm. “Hawkeye, this is Captain America.”

“ _Go for Hawkeye_ ,” he responded.

“There’s a group of Sleepers at the base of the Theme Building,” Nate said. “Do what you have to, to stop them from escaping.”

“ _Aye aye, sir,”_ Hawkeye replied. “ _Be advised sir, there could be damage to the building itself.”_

“Iceman and I are evac’ing now,” he said, addressing Hawkeye’s unspoken concern.

“ _Cover your ears. Hawkeye out.”_

Nate started to turn toward the stairwell when he felt a firm hand grasp his bicep. Surprise made him hesitate momentarily before he allowed Iceman to tug him toward the shattered windows. As Nate watched, Iceman formed a ramp from the window ledge to the roof of a nearby terminal. He waited for Iceman to step out first and was surprised again when he found himself pushed unceremoniously onto the ramp.

It was a less than graceful trip to the roof of the terminal. Nate tumbled when he reached the rough surface, grateful he was at least able to roll to his feet. He even managed to maintain his grip on both shields.

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually be good at that,” he told Brad breathlessly.

“You’re already better at it than Colossus and Beast,” Iceman replied.

“With what you can do, it must have been frustrating to be stuck taking the stairs earlier.”

“I could have constructed a ladder. Nighthawk could have flown up. It just didn’t seem tactically sound to be prairie-dogging in the windows when we could make a stealth approach up the stairs.”

Nate had to agree.

Loud, concussive blasts began to sound behind them. Nate turned to see Sleepers disintegrating. Still others melted under the heat of brightly burning flames. He assumed those were Hawkeye’s magnesium flare arrows.

“Do you see Red Skull or U.S. Agent?” he asked Iceman.

“No, sir. Let’s hope they’ve already fallen.

Almost as one, the sea of Sleepers shifted. As Nate and Iceman watched from the terminal roof, the mechanical army began to fall back. Many appeared equipped with levitation devices and actually took to the air.

“Captain America to Station M,” Nate hailed Mike.

“ _Go for Station M,_ ” came the immediately reply.

“The Sleepers appear to be fleeing. We’ve lost track of Red Skull and U.S. Agent. Can you get a status update on Beast and Colossus? They’re inside clearing one of the terminals of civilians.”

“ _Affirmative. Stand by.”_

Nate listened as Beast and Colossus reported to Mike that all the Sleepers inside the terminal were falling back.

“ _No local responders have eyes on Red Skull or U.S. Agent. Looks like a full scale retreat.”_

“Fuck,” Nate spat. “Roger that, Mike. Thanks. If that’s the case, our work here is done. We should be clearing the scene soon.”

“ _I’ll arrange a meet up with the incident commander so you can hand things over to the locals.”_


	11. Chapter 11

**_Later that evening, The Avengers are back at their command center conducting a debriefing of the afternoon’s events …_ **

“Still no reports of any sightings of Red Skull or U.S. Agent,” Mike concluded. “I still don’t think we’ve seen the last of them, though.”

“I’m sure they’re going to come after Nate with a vengeance now,” Brad said, smoothing his features to hide just how uncomfortable he was with that thought. He’d already reverted back to his flesh form. They had all changed into street clothes as soon as they’d returned. “No doubt Red Skull holds him responsible for whatever that was the Dust of Death did to him.”

Brad tried to ignore the way he could feel the heat of Nate’s body seeping through his tee shirt. He was having his typical post-mission response and Nate’s proximity, his scent, were making Brad’s hard on worse. He needed to wrap this up and get the fuck back to his rooms so he could take care of it in the shower.

“That was some fucking nasty shit,” Ray said gleefully. “He really does have a red skull now. Serves the asshole right.”

“Well, I think we’re done here,” Mike said. “You guys get your after-actions turned in ASAP. Patterson already has the attorneys on standby to field the bullshit lawsuits that’ll start getting filed, so they’ll be needing the summaries in the next day or so.”

“Lawsuits?” Nate asked, his expression one of bafflement. “Who’s suing us?”

“It always happens after we save a bunch of pussy-civilian-dick-sucks,” Ray said, stretching. “The ambulance chasers get to them and they end up suing us for every scraped knee, sprained ankle, and case of PTSD.”

“But we saved them,” Nate said, now looking stunned. “They could have all died. Nothing we did resulted in any casualties. Isn’t anyone grateful we kept them all from dying?”

Brad snorted, even as his heart ached for Nate. He hated watching one more piece of Nate’s idealism die a violent death. “In this amoral, money-hungry, litigious society? Fuck no. Once they were out of danger and feeling safe again, the only thing any of them could think of was dollar signs.”

“Don’t worry about it, Nate,” Mike said, clapping Nate on the shoulder. “Patterson handles it. Most of the suits go nowhere. Others he settles for miniscule amounts of cash. The only reason it came up was because the sharks need the after-actions.”

Nate glanced from Mike to Brad, his mouth agape. Brad decided he’d get up to his room, get himself squared away in the shower and seek out Nate to talk about this. He looked like he might need to talk it out later.

“By the way,” Mike continued, “Patterson sends his hearty approval of the handling of this mission. Congratulations, Nate, on a first mission, well handled.”

Brad led the Avengers in a round of sincere applause. Nate blushed and Brad felt an answering surge of blood in his own cock. He really needed to get upstairs and to the privacy of his rooms.

“Anything to add, Captain?” Brad asked Nate. “Or can the troops be dismissed?”

Nate snorted and dropped his head slightly. It was an endearing act and nearly killed Brad. “Good work, men. Thank you for your excellent teamwork and flawless execution of the tactical plan. It’s an honor to work with you all.”

Brad nearly bolted from the command center. He didn’t wait for anyone else to make it to the elevator before he punched the button for the ground floor. Once on the mansion’s main floor, he charged up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. When he was safely inside of his rooms, he leaned back against the closed door and heaved a heavy sigh.

Heading for his bathroom, Brad tore open the fly of his jeans to give himself some much needed relief. He tore his tee shirt over his head as he walked, tossing it negligently onto the floor. He kicked off his shoes and pushed them to the side just outside of the bathroom door.

Brad turned on the water, setting the temperature hot. Just as he shed his jeans and was ready to step into the cubicle, there was a loud knock at his bedroom door. _Fuck_. He considered ignoring it but it was most likely Ray and he wouldn’t go away until he had Brad’s full attention.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, he wrapped it around his hips and crossed to the door.

To Brad’s shock and dismay, Nate stood in the corridor, wearing _nothing_ but a pair of well-worn, low slung jeans. Brad vaguely remembered when he’d bought those. His reaction had been just as powerful then as it was now.

“I’m so fucking sorry to bother you,” Nate said breathlessly, his hands fidgeting in front of him. “I got back to my room and started climbing the walls. I’ve never felt this way after a mission. It feels like there’s something crawling underneath my skin. I really need to talk to you.”

Brad stepped aside to allow Nate to enter. He was painfully aware that the towel did little to hide his erection and that it was getting worse now that Nate was within arm’s reach. He closed and locked the door, wondering why he thought to do so, even as he did it.

Suddenly, Nate’s words sank in. He’d said something about a sensation of his skin crawling. A chill ran through Brad’s body at the thought that Nate had been exposed to the Dust of Death.

“Are you showing any outward symptoms?” he asked harshly, crossing to Nate and taking a close look at him. He looked to be just fine and Brad relaxed slightly. “Is there a rash? Difficulty breathing?”

Nate’s expression was one of utter confusion. “What? No. No, there’s nothing physically wrong with me. Brad, I’ve never been on a mission as a part of a team. The competence everyone showed was extraordinary. The cooperation was as comforting as it was helpful. I always feel a sense of accomplishment after a successful mission but now, I’ve shared that experience with five other men and it’s …”

He appeared to be at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth several times but didn’t continue. Instead, he kept pressing the palm of one hand over his heart.

Brad finally understood. “It’s brotherhood, Nate. You went into combat with your fellow warriors and you all came out the other side.”

“Yes,” Nate murmured, watching Brad intently, as if amazed he was finally being understood.

Brad continued, hoping his words would continue to ease Nate’s obvious distress. “You know that you can rely on your brothers to do their jobs and do them well. You know they rely on you for the same and you’d die rather than let them down. You’d die for the men on either of side you, and know they’d do the same for you.”

Nate’s chest heaved with each breath. His face was flushed and it made his eyes luminous. His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip and Brad’s eyes followed the movement closely. He knew the towel around his waist did little to hide his post-mission erection and the sight of Nate’s pink tongue on his red lip made him ache even more painfully.

“I never knew I could feel this close to one person, let alone an entire team of you,” Nate said, his voice held an edge of desperation.

Brad finally asked something he’d been curious about. “Didn’t you lead combat missions as a Marine Lieutenant?” he asked.

Nate chuckled mirthlessly. “I barely made it through boot camp. It was all I could do not to fall over from the recoil of my M1. The only thing I had going for me was my Dartmouth education. They let me ride a desk in Naval Intelligence. When the call went out for volunteers to be injected with the Super-Soldier serum, I jumped at the opportunity. Then, as Captain America, I always worked alone.”

Brad stood as still as possible, desperately trying to prevent the towel from rubbing against his aching hardon. Watching Nate telling his story in his usual animated fashion, emotions obviously running high, was killing Brad.

“Well, you’re part of the team now, LT,” Brad said, his voice sounding rough and low to his own ears. “We’re honored to have you.”

“You guys are amazing. No hesitance whatsoever to charge right into battle. Always watching each other’s backs. Competence has always been a huge turn on for me and you can do _everything_ ,” Nate said, just above a whisper. “And you make it look so fucking easy while you do it.”

Brad stopped breathing. It almost seemed like Nate was using the singular ‘you’, as if he was speaking specifically about Brad and not the team. It had to be wishful thinking.

He let himself look down past the waistband of Nate’s jeans for the first time. His fly was tented obscenely. Nate was as hard as Brad was, aroused by the mission they’d just completed as well as how skillfully they’d pulled it off. He could have taken care of himself in the shower, like Brad had intended to do, but instead he’d sought out Brad.

“Fuck,” Nate moaned. “The things you do to me just by being you.”

Something snapped in Brad’s head. He _knew_ Nate was talking specifically about him and not the team in general. Brad took one long step forward and wrapped his hands around Nate’s skull. He used the entire length of his body to press Nate backward, walking them both across the room until they connected with the wall. Nate’s back slammed against it and Brad’s chest slammed into Nate’s. He ground his hips against Nate’s and lowered his head to press their lips together.

Brad didn’t have to seek entrance into Nate’s mouth. Nate opened to him instantly, his own tongue pushing against Brad’s and demanding a response. It was all things he knew it would be; it was just as he’d fantasized it would be. Nate tasted warm and spicy. His lips were soft and his tongue felt like rough velvet as it rubbed hotly against Brad’s.

His fingers dug into Nate’s scalp, holding him steady as Brad licked into his mouth and across his teeth. Brad moaned into Nate’s mouth, rubbing his body against the heated length of Nate’s. He pressed his cock hard into the point of Nate’s hip, circling his pelvis, seeking the right pressure and friction they both needed.

Brad felt Nate run his hands up Brad’s sides, felt them slide around to caress his back before fingers dug into his shoulders. It left Brad feeling branded. He swiveled his hips against Nate’s again, as Nate dropped his hands, skimming them over Brad’s skin until he used them to squeeze Brad’s ass hard through the towel.

That’s when it hit Brad; what the fuck was he doing? He was standing in nothing but a towel, cock hard enough to drive nails, rutting against Nate, pinning him to the wall as if Brad was nothing more than a mindless animal.

He released Nate entirely, taking several shaky steps backward. His towel came loose and Brad clutched at it, his trembling hands struggling to keep it in place over his throbbing cock. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he told Nate breathlessly.

Nate stayed where he was, back pressed to the wall. He pointed a finger at Brad and narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said firmly, “You do _not_ say that to me. You only apologize if you realize you miscalculated, if you didn’t enjoy kissing me like you thought you would.” Nate’s eyes dropped to Brad’s hands feebly trying to cover an obvious erection. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

“I didn’t ask,” Brad struggled for the right words. The throb in his dick made clear thought difficult. “I had no business shoving you against a wall and humping you like a fucking dog.”

Nate pushed himself of the wall and stalked closer to Brad. “I am Captain-fucking-America. If you’d done anything I didn’t like; anything I didn’t want you to do, I’d have put you on your ass.”

Brad stared at Nate wordlessly. He knew his mouth was agape but his brain would not allow him to believe what he thought Nate was saying; what he _hoped_ Nate was saying.

His numb fingers gave no resistance when Nate swiftly closed the distance between them and yanked the towel from his grasp. Nate grasped his shoulders in a nearly painful grip and pivoted them both. Brad steadied himself with both hands at Nate’s waist as he was walked backward until his back slammed against the wall next to the bathroom door.

Every nerve ending in Brad’s body sparked with electricity when Nate pressed their mouths together. It was wet and sloppy, Nate’s tongue pushing into his mouth, unrelenting. Brad’s sensitized cock tingled as Nate rubbed the coarse denim of his jeans against it. He dragged a breath into his oxygen-starved lungs when Nate released his mouth. He moaned obscenely when Nate licked down his neck and bit at his shoulder.

Brad slid his hands down Nate’s naked back and dug his fingers into the round firmness of Nate’s ass. He pressed their hips together, gasping at the feel of Nate grinding against him. Wet heat enveloped his nipple and Brad slammed his head back into the wall in response. Nate dragged his teeth roughly over the swollen nub and Brad’s hips faltered as he choked on his own breath.  He wanted Nate’s mouth around his cock. Brad wanted to look the length of his own body and watch Nate suck him. He wanted to get down on all fours and let Nate lick into him with that wicked tongue. Brad wanted to pull Nate in close, press their chests together and fuck up into him.

He wanted it all and didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Is that your shower I hear running?” Nate asked, breath hot against Brad’s throat.

“Yeah,” he managed to answer, shocked at the torn sound of his own voice.

“I desperately need a shower,” Nate murmured in between incendiary licks of his tongue. “I probably smell like sweat and Adamantium.”

He did. Brad inhaled, his nose buried in the hair at Nate’s temple. He could smell Nate’s musky sweat, the metallic Adamantium, but also Nate’s shampoo, cologne and his skin. _Fuck_. Nate smelled wonderful and Brad’s too-hard cock twitched in response.

“You know, Los Angeles is a desert,” Nate said against Brad’s collarbone. “And it’s currently experiencing drought conditions. I think we should conserve water and shower together. What do you think?”

The thought of Nate, naked, wet and slick overloaded the circuits of Brad’s brain. “It would be the responsible thing to do,” he managed to reply.

Nate pulled Brad from the wall and turned him into the bathroom, giving him a firm shove. Brad checked the water temperature and when he turned back to Nate, he forgot what he was going to say. He watched Nate step out of his jeans and kick them away. His mouth went dry at the sight of Nate standing naked before him. Brad didn’t know where to look first; his broad shoulders, the muscles of his chest and stomach, or the blood-red erection standing proudly from a dark nest of curls.

Nate was completely unselfconscious in his nudity as he crossed over to Brad and pushed him into the shower with a grin. As the water cascaded down and around them, Nate’s skin became shiny-wet and slick under Brad’s hands. He couldn’t get enough of touching him and was still a little disbelieving that he was allowed to. Nate kissed him again, slower this time. Brad wrapped his arms around Nate’s torso and pulled him in close. Nate’s arms wrapped around his neck, gently cradling his head this time, more caress than control.

They were pressed together at all points, water sluicing down between them. It made their skin smooth as they slid along and against each other’s bodies. When Brad felt Nate’s erection glide against his own, he couldn’t help the flex of his hips as he tried to get just a little bit closer.

Brad hated the needy sound he made when Nate broke the kiss. He tried to chase him with his lips, already aching with loss.

“Sshhh,” Nate crooned. He reached for Brad’s bottle of shampoo and poured some into his palm before replacing the bottle. Brad jumped slightly when Nate’s hands reached out instead of up. Nate began to lather _Brad’s_ hair, instead of his own.

He closed his eyes and groaned at how good it felt. Nate’s fingers were gentle as they massaged the shampoo into Brad’s scalp.  He let Nate tilt his head back under the spray to rinse. Brad couldn’t remember a time anyone had ever taken care of him like that.

Nate took the sponge and filled it with shower gel. He ran it firmly over Brad’s shoulders and chest. He propped each of Brad’s arms on his shoulder in turn, to clean thoroughly underneath. Brad couldn’t help the ticklish flex of his stomach muscles when Nate ran the rough sponge over his belly.

He’d never been so clean. Nate dropped the sponge and used his sudsy hands to stroke, caress and cradle Brad’s cock and balls. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from fucking into Nate’s hand and coming hard. When Nate’s hand slipped between his ass cheeks, Brad expected a finger or two to penetrate him but they didn’t. He bit back his groan of frustration.

“It does show on your face,” Nate murmured, almost inaudible over the rushing water. “You just have to look for it.”

Brad opened his eyes and found Nate watching him closely, a look of amazement on his face. He didn’t understand what Nate meant; Brad tried to never let _anything_ show on his face. If he thought about it, later, when he didn’t have Nate standing in front of him, naked and apparently willing, he might be able to figure it out.

When Brad was thoroughly rinsed, Nate washed himself quickly. He chuckled and swatted Brad’s hands away each time he tried to help and just slowed the process.

Brad shut off the water as Nate retrieved towels. He let himself be dried as thoroughly as he was washed. When Nate ran the towel roughly over his hair, he resisted the urge to run his fingers through it, pushing it back from his face. Something in Nate’s face said he liked the way it looked, falling over Brad’s forehead and framing his face. Brad liked that look on Nate’s face; he wanted to keep it there.

Nate’s hair ended up a spiky mess, curling over his ears and falling over his own forehead. Instead of looking sixteen, Nate looked twelve. The way he gave Brad a small smile, running a finger along the edge of the towel he’d thrown around his hips, made Brad want to throw him to the floor and fuck him hard.

Instead, he waited for some signal as to what Nate wanted from him.

A blush rose over Nate’s features, riding high on his cheekbones.

“Okay, I admit, I have no idea what to do now,” Nate said, still playing his finger of the edge of his towel seductively. “I don’t know what you want or what you do or anything about what you like.”

Brad blinked in confusion. He let Nate’s words sink in, tried to parse their meaning.

Grabbing Nate’s hips, Brad tugged the towel away and jerked their bodies together. He kissed Nate hard, licking fiercely at his lips and struggling to breathe at the same time. He started to walk them out toward the bed.

“I want to fuck you,” he said breathlessly against Nate’s mouth. “Can I do that? Will you let me?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good, if that’s what you want,” Nate moaned against Brad’s lips, hands clutching desperately at his shoulders.

Brad stopped their progress. He pulled back slightly, searching Nate’s luminous green eyes. “I want you to want it. Don’t do it just ‘cause it’s what I want. What do _you_ want?” Brad didn’t care. He wanted to fuck Nate, sure, but he’d just as happily lay face down on his bed and let Nate fuck him, if that would make Nate happy. Brad just wanted him. Period.

Nate was once against pressed flush to Brad’s body. “Yeah, I want it. I want you to. I just meant … maybe you wanted me to suck you …” his lips moved against the skin of Brad’s throat as he spoke.

Brad shuddered as the mental picture of Nate on his knees, sucking Brad’s cock. “Next time.” he hadn’t meant to say that, even as he realized he meant it.

“Next time, yeah,” Nate agreed readily. Brad could feel him smile.

The implication; the _promise_ , sent fire through Brad’s veins. He shoved Nate backward, watching him sprawl crossways on the bed. Nate scrambled backward even as Brad knelt between his open legs. He lowered himself over Nate’s heated body and felt himself tugged closer by Nate’s hands on his back and legs around his hips.

Brad slowly rubbed his cock along Nate’s. He stared down at Nate’s red and swollen mouth. The temptation was too great, Brad kissed him again.

Nate broke the kiss on a gasp. He rubbed his lips against Brad’s as he tried to speak, “I brought … in my jeans …”

Brad couldn’t help but smile as Nate wriggled against him, as if he was trying to get up to retrieve his discarded clothing. “You came prepared?”

Nate’s sex flush darkened as he blushed in embarrassment. “I hoped … I really didn’t know what to expect.”

Brad knelt up and opened a drawer in the table next to his bed. He grabbed a half empty bottle of lube and tore a condom from a brand new strip. He turned back to Nate, whose expression had darkened slightly. Brad opened the lube and drizzled some onto two of his fingers. He forced that smile back onto his face, knowing he had to give Nate this much.

“I’ve been going through a hell of a lot more of this since you’ve been around,” Brad said the words but he couldn’t meet his eyes. He held up the condom. “These were wishful thinking.”

Nate snorted. “You could have said something.”

Brad hazarded a glance at Nate. The tension in his face had eased and he smiled slightly. Brad glanced back down at his own hand. No, he really couldn’t have said anything. He hadn’t thought Nate would say yes.

Brad lifted one of Nate’s legs, opening him. He finally looked at Nate’s face, running a palm along his inner thigh. Brad teased Nate’s puckered opening with a lubed finger, feeling it tense and relax sporadically. He pushed inward, breaching Nate and sliding his finger all the way in.

Nate gasped but he held Brad’s gaze unwaveringly. Brad slid his finger in and out a few times, spreading the lube and learning all of Nate’s expressions and sounds. He eased his second finger in and Nate arched off the bed slightly, face suffused with pleasure. He was hot and tight around Brad’s fingers, his inner muscles clenching greedily.

Brad covered three fingers in slick and pressed two of them back inside of Nate. He skimmed the palm of his other hand over the tensed muscles of Nate’s stomach. When Brad pushed in his third finger, Nate’s swollen mouth dropped open and a slight frown formed between his brows. Brad slowed his motions, fearing he’d caused Nate discomfort. He desperately needed their first time – possibly their only time – together to be nothing but mind-bending pleasure. Instead, Nate grinned.

“I knew you’d be careful; that you’d take care of me,” he said, low and breathless.

Brad swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat at Nate’s words. He felt laid bare, realizing it was obvious how invested he was in this. Brad reached for Nate’s cock and gave it a few light strokes. He felt the need to distract Nate, shift his focus. He _was_ taking special care with Nate; he just wished it wasn’t so fucking apparent.

Brad poured more lube onto his fingers. Nate tensed slightly around the third but almost immediately relaxed. Brad made sure Nate was well slicked inside.

“Now you’re just a fucking tease,” Nate said, voice low and rough with his arousal.

Brad fucked Nate’s ass with his fingers while he continued to stroke his cock. Nate’s hips flexed rhythmically under the dual assault. His chest heaved with each breath.

“Not teasing if I follow through,” he said.

Experimentally, Brad pressed upward with his fingers, rubbing gently across Nate’s prostate. Nate gasped, arched his back and fisted his hands in the bedclothes. That was a more intense reaction than Brad had anticipated and he wondered what would happen when they really got going.

“Christ,” Nate growled. “Do you want me to beg?”

Brad’s world spun at Nate’s words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one here who was desperate. He slid his fingers from Nate’s ass and reached for the condom. Tearing it open with his teeth, Brad struggled to roll it onto his sensitized cock with trembling fingers.

Surging up over Nate’s body, Brad propped himself on one arm and used his other hand to position his erection at Nate’s opening. Nate used his legs to grip Brad’s hips as he lifted himself onto his elbows. Brad froze, suddenly realizing he hadn’t asked Nate if this was what _he_ wanted; if this was how he had wanted things to be.

“Is this okay?” Brad choked out, gripping himself hard at the base, struggling for control.

“Fuck yes, just like this,” Nate said in a hoarse whisper, one of hands coming up to grip Brad’s ass and try to tug him closer.

Brad could take a hint. He thrust forward, pushing slowly, steadily against the initial resistance of Nate’s body until Nate relaxed and Brad was deep inside. The tight heat was overwhelming. Brad froze, his mind filled with nothing but intense pleasure.

Nate twisted under Brad, his eyes squeezed shut and his neck arched. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, both hands on Brad’s ass, trying to pull him deeper.

Brad thrust his hips again and froze as Nate cried out sharply.

“You okay?” Brad ground out. All he wanted was to pull out and slam himself back into Nate’s body.

“Yeah,” Nate breathed. His eyes opened and he looked up at Brad. “I’m not made of fucking glass,” he said, frustration obvious. He ran his hands up the length of Brad’s back. “Now fuck me already.”

Nate’s words cut through the fog of Brad’s desire. He fisted his hands next to Nate’s hips and began to fuck. It was better than he’d imagined; the feel of Nate’s body tight around him. Sweat formed at his hairline and rolled down the length of his spine as he worked his cock in and out of Nate’s ass. Brad groaned at the feel of sinking deep into Nate’s heat. The slap of his hips against the backs of Nate’s thighs was loud but still didn’t drown out their moans and gasps. Every few strokes, Nate cried out, arching up into Brad as if he needed more contact. Brad could feel his control slipping away with each thrust and he struggled for control, hoping Nate felt as good with Brad inside of him as Brad felt to be there.

Brad shifted so he could lower himself over Nate’s body. They were both sweating now, straining against each other with each pump of Brad’s hips. Nate didn’t just lay back and take; he pushed down against Brad’s cock, fucking himself onto it. The heat of Nate’s ass as it enveloped Brad’s dick was scalding.

Nate opened his eyes and suddenly Brad couldn’t breathe. His pupils were blown so wide, only the slightest hint of green was left visible as Nate stared steadily up at Brad. It hit him hard, low in the gut. He gave a particularly brutal thrust and Nate bit down on his own lower lip in response. Brad’s balls ached and started to rise. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so sexy.

He dropped his head and buried his face in Nate’s neck, breathing in the scent of Nate’s sweat mixed with Brad’s shampoo. Underneath it all, Brad could just detect the odor of their sex as it permeated the air around them. He ran his tongue up the length of Nate’s neck and was shocked at the violence of the answering shudder.

“Oh fuck, Brad,” Nate said. If it had been laced with any more desperation it would have been a sob.

Brad sat up, dragging in deep, shuddering breaths. He was so close to coming and the more of Nate’s skin he touched, the more of him he could smell, the closer he got. Brad couldn’t let it end so soon. He needed this to be good for Nate. He needed it to be so good that Nate might want it again.

Grabbing a pillow, Brad worked it under Nate’s hips. Together, they managed to maneuver it into place without Brad’s cock slipping out of Nate’s ass. Brad gave a few experimental thrusts and was deeply satisfied at the angle the pillow gave him. If Nate’s guttural moans were any indication, he approved as well.

Sitting back on his heels, Brad spread Nate’s legs and draped them over his own thighs. He propped one arm behind himself for leverage. He skimmed his other hand over Nate’s leg and swiveled his hips a few times. Nate’s body went boneless in pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open on a silent moan. His hands had been fisted in the bedclothes by his own head but now, they fell limply.

Brad kept moving. He angled his thrusts upward, wanting to keep Nate right there on the edge. He skimmed his free hand over Nate’s flexed abs, feeling the dips and ridges as Nate trembled under his touch. He was torn between grasping Nate’s cock and jacking him roughly; dragging him over the precipice and making him come until he forgot his own name, or just admiring it as it lay blood-red and weeping against Nate’s belly.

Instead, Brad cradled Nate’s ball sac in his palm, smirking at Nate’s desperate moan. He circled his hips roughly as Nate bit down on his own lower lip again. He watched Nate’s cock twitch and bounce against his belly, leaving wet smears on his skin. Brad was getting seriously close to losing all control.

Nate’s eyes opened slightly, he peered at Brad, heavy lidded. “Touch me, Brad, please,” he pleaded in a raw whisper. “I need you to fucking touch me.”

How the fuck was Brad supposed to resist that? He wrapped his hand around Nate’s cock and felt it jump against his palm. He stroked it a few times, feeling the velvety texture covering the rigid firmness. Nate’s ass clenched hard at Brad’s cock, nearly sending him spiraling over.

“How do you like it?” Brad asked, timing his hand on Nate’s cock with the thrust of his hips. “Tell me what you like.”

“Squeeze a little tighter,” Nate gasped. “Faster, go faster,” he panted.

Brad tightened his grip and sped up his fist and his hips. Nate grunted each time Brad swept his fingers over the head so on the next stroke, he squeezed even harder and give a twist of his wrist.

“Oh, Jesus,” Nate suspired, stretching his arms over his head. He looked like he was Brad’s for the taking.

“Come for me, Nate,” Brad heard himself plead breathlessly. “I wanna watch you come. Wanna feel you tighten around my cock.”

“Not like this,” Nate said, sounding as wrecked and desperate as Brad felt.

Confusion crept into Brad’s awareness. He almost stilled his hand on Nate’s cock. Suddenly, Nate reached out a trembling hand, beckoning Brad forward.

Shifting forward, Brad kept stroking Nate’s cock. He came down on an elbow next to Nate’s head. He felt Nate’s hands on the back of his own skull, pulling him down for a kiss. This kiss was all seeking tongue and hot breathe. It was the filthiest kiss Brad had ever experienced.

Nate broke the kiss but didn’t release Brad. He kept their foreheads pressed together, breathing hotly against Brad’s lips. It was so dirty, so fucking intimate, Brad felt his chest clench in response. He’d think about what it all meant later.

“Fuck. Yeah, like that. Just like that,” Nate murmured against Brad’s mouth. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Nate sucked in a deep breath and held it. His body stilled and his inner muscles tightened on Brad’s cock. He felt Nate’s cock, hot and heavy in his hand, pulse a few times.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Nate’s shout was low and guttural. His body jerked and shuddered beneath Brad’s, trembling violently as he came.

Brad stroked Nate through it, feeling each throbbing pulse of his cock and each gush of come fall across his fingers. Nate’s tremors went on forever, rolling through Brad’s body as well. He felt his own cock squeezed and tugged as he stayed buried deep in Nate’s ass.

“Oh, god,” Nate whispered, when his body finally relaxed. Brad felt Nate’s hands fall away from his head leaving him feeling suddenly bereft without that touch.

Brad propped himself on both elbows now, slowly flexing his hips, waiting to be sure Nate was sufficiently recovered.

“How do you want to go?” Nate asked against the shell of his ear. “You wanna go like this?”

Brad buried his face in Nate’s neck and inhaled. Nate’s scent had mingled with their combined sweat and Nate’s own come. They were both sweat-slick and Nate’s come was drying tacky between them. Nate’s ass was hot around Brad’s cock this was _exactly_ how he wanted to come.

“Just like this,” Brad murmured into the sweaty skin of Nate’s throat.

Brad felt Nate wrap one arm around his back. He felt Nate’s other hand grip his ass as he wrapped his legs around Brad’s hips. “Fuck me hard,” Nate demanded, “Come inside me.”

His body was no longer his own, Brad realized, as he started to fuck into Nate’s ass. His rhythm was for shit and all he could do was slam himself in and out. The slap of skin was loud in the room, Brad’s harsh breathing was like thunder in his own ears. He felt one long, violent shudder roll through his body just before his orgasm slammed into him with enough force to curl his toes.

His balls emptied into Nate’s ass, pulsing for what felt like ages. Brad’s cock twitched violently, clutched tight by Nate’s body. It hurt, and Brad sobbed against Nate’s neck. He hoped Nate didn’t notice.

Together they collapsed down onto the bed. Brad managed to shift enough to give Nate breathing room. He knew he had a hand curled possessively around Nate’s bicep, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate and let go. He couldn’t remember the last time it took him this long to catch his breath.

When he was finally able to move, he pulled out and disposed of the condom, then staggered to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. When get got back to the bed, Nate had retrieved them each a bottle of water. When he regained the power of coherent speech, Brad needed to compliment Nate on his execution of a strategic plan.

He wiped himself free of come and sweat and did the same for Nate, then tugged down the bedclothes, straightening the pillows. He arranged the bed for two to sleep comfortably. He hoped this was invitation enough for Nate to stay. Brad couldn’t form the words, but he didn’t want Nate to go back to his own room. He had no idea what Nate intended or what he wanted.

Silently, Brad slipped beneath the sheet and tugged the other side down. His desire was clear but the choice was Nate’s.

To Brad’s relief, Nate slid beneath the sheet. They lay on their sides, facing each other. Brad watched Nate closely, searching for some sign that he’d been as affected at Brad had.

“Yeah, it’s there,” Nate said, eyes running over Brad’s face. “You just have to know to look.”

“What?” Brad asked, remembering the first time Nate had said almost the same thing.

“Nothing,” Nate grinned. “I knew we’d be good together,” he said on a sigh.

Brad watched Nate slide into sleep before he felt like he could close his eyes and not have Nate disappear.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Early the next morning inside the Avenger’s mansion, heroes are beginning to stir in preparation for greeting the new day …_ **

Nate awoke gently, but instantly. His body was warm and languorous; he felt strangely at peace. Nate took a deep breath and started a luxurious morning stretch. A distinct scent filled his nostrils and he froze in mid-stretch, his eyes snapping open. Nate’s morning erection went from burgeoning to full hardness in an instant at the unmistakable smell of sex. His gaze landed on Brad’s golden body, laying only inches away from his own. Memories of the night before assailed him and Nate’s heart hammered in his chest. He dropped his hand and wrapped his fingers around his hard cock as he watched Brad continue to sleep.

Nate couldn’t fucking believe it. He’d gone from thinking Brad viewed him as a responsibility; an obligation, to realizing there might be a mutual attraction. He’d had his suspicion confirmed that Brad was a focused, skilled, and considerate lover. Nate knew he was hooked but in the gray pre-dawn light, he had no idea what Brad was going to be thinking and feeling today.

If Brad had exorcised his attraction to Nate the night before, if his interest waned in the bright light of day, so be it. In the meantime, Nate was going to make the most of having a warm, sleep-muzzy Brad -with a morning hard on – in the bed beside him.

He eased himself over Brad’s body and straddled his thighs. Nate wrapped a hand around both their cocks and began to rock back and forth gently. He didn’t want to startle Brad awake; he wanted to ease him into it with pleasure.

It took a few minutes, and Nate smiled at the way Brad shifted and moaned beneath him. But then he came fully awake with a sharp gasp, his eyes snapping open and meeting Nate’s. Brad grabbed Nate’s thighs in a tight grip that Nate knew would leave marks for hours after. Brad released his breath on a deep, shuddering sigh. His cock twitched in Nate’s hand, rock hard, with a bead of pre-come at the tip.

“Good morning,” Nate said, smiling down at Brad’s confused expression even as he kept stroking them both. “I’d much rather spend the next hour having slow and quiet morning sex – the kind with lots of eye contact – but I didn’t submit my after-action last night. Then I promised Ray I’d spar with him this morning, so this will just have to do for now.”

“So, you prefer sparring with Ray over morning sex with me?” Brad asked. His tone was light but Nate saw the vulnerability Brad was struggling to hide. He knew most people would miss it but Nate was looking for it.

“Does this feel like I prefer Ray over you?” he asked, squeezing their cocks together so Brad could feel just how hard he was. “If I don’t show, Ray will come looking for me. You, of all people, know he won’t conduct his search quietly. Do you really want him pounding on your bedroom door shouting about how I’ve corrupted you?”

Brad snorted a laugh even as he pushed his hips upward in rhythm with Nate’s hand. “Point, sir.”

Nate winced. “Oh, please. Not when we’re in bed together; naked, sweaty, and hard.”

“Not gonna be hard much longer with you doing that,” Brad said, his voice rough and chest heaving with each breath.

Nate reached into Brad’s bedside table and withdrew the nearly empty lube bottle. He held it up for Brad to see and gave it a shake to illustrate the low level.

“I’ll go shopping today,” Brad gasped. “Then order a gallon bottle over the internet.”

Nate knew his smile was too wide and too bright but he couldn’t help it. He was just happy to hear Brad’s implied promise that they’d do this again.

He drizzled lube into his palm and wrapped it back around their dicks. He rocked himself against Brad, sliding their slick cocks together and increasing the delicious friction with his fist.

Brad’s hands tightened on Nate’s thighs, short nails digging into Nate’s skin. His eyes slid shut and his back arched. Nate sped up the motion of his hand and the flex of his hips.

When Brad came, it was in near silence. Nate was disappointed that he felt the need to hold back in that way. He silently promised himself to work on that. Beneath him, Brad’s body jerked, and he breathed heavily through clenched teeth. Nate stroked him, watching the thick, white ropes of come land on Brad’s belly. He worked Brad’s cock until his body relaxed and he released a heavy sigh.

Nate pressed his own hard cock down onto Brad’s slick belly. He thrust himself along Brad’s skin, slick with come, lube and sweat.

“Oh fuck,” Nate groaned. He propped himself up with a hand on Brad’s chest as he started to come. Nate’s hips faltered and he added his own come to the mess on Brad’s belly. It wasn’t as good as last night, but it was a hell of a lot better than jerking off in the shower to thoughts of Brad.

Yeah, this was much better.

Sliding forward, Nate found Brad’s mouth with his own. Morning breath meant it wasn’t an optimal kiss, but he wanted Brad to know there was more going on here than just getting off.

For Nate, anyway.

“Shower?” Brad asked against the skin of Nate’s throat.

He chuckled. “I would love to, but I’m sure we’d end up delayed and therefore, facing the prospect of Ray.”

“Would it help if I just killed him?”

“Definitely not.  That would upset Walt.  I don’t want to upset Walt,” Nate said with a laugh, reluctantly climbing off of Brad. He went in search of his jeans.

“No accounting for taste,” Brad said as he slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Nate slid into his jeans and gathered his courage. “What do you have planned for this morning? After my workout, I have to check my equipment and make any necessary repairs but I thought we might be able to get lunch.”

Brad’s completely neutral expression told Nate everything he needed to know. This was _not_ one-sided.

“Sure,” Brad answered. “I’ve got some work to do on the SkyCycles – after I turn in my after-action. Come find me when you’re done.”

With a nod, Nate slid out of Brad’s room. To his relief, the hallway was empty. It was still early enough he didn’t think anyone else was stirring, if they were even awake. He made it into his own rooms without seeing anyone.

Closing the door, Nate leaned back into it and closed his eyes. He took a deep, cleansing breath. He was so fucking happy. So happy, and so fucking scared.

There was nothing to do for that but get on with his day; Nate knew he’d be counting down the minutes until he could seek out Brad for their lunch date.

First, Nate showered, reluctantly washing Brad’s scent from his skin. Next, he wrote his after-action, focusing on his tactical decisions and the reasons for them. He recounted the events in _Encounters_ to the best of his memory, chagrined that he hadn’t completed it the night before when his memory was fresh.  Once his paperwork was done, he sent the report to Rudy and gathered up his shield to head down and spar with Ray.

It was absolutely no surprise to find Walt in the training room along with Ray. When Nate walked in, Walt was seated on a weight bench and Ray was... Ray was standing on the bench behind him, humping Walt’s head.

“Good morning, gents,” Nate called.

Ray pulled away from Walt, apparently startled. Walt flushed, even as he returned Nate’s greeting.

“’Morning, Nate,” he called.

“Wasn’t sure you’d make it this morning, Cap,” Ray said, jumping down from the bench.

“Why is that?” Nate asked, meeting their eyes in challenge. He was by no means ashamed of what had happened between Brad and himself. He had every intention of admitting it freely. What Nate refused to do was play Ray’s childish games. If there was something he wanted to know, he could fucking ask, like an adult.

“You know,” Ray replied, his expression cagey. “You led your first mission yesterday; turned Ferrando into a walking jack-o-lantern. Neither you nor Brad came down to dinner, last night. I knocked on your bedroom door but, obviously, you didn’t answer. I noticed that Brad’s light was still on.”

“It may have been my first mission with the Avengers but I was hardly a mission-virgin.” Nate sat on the bench across from Walt and Ray. He met Ray’s eyes steadily, daring him to ask what he really wanted to know.

“Is Brad awake?” Walt asked.

Nate was surprised that it was Walt who went there first.

“Yes, he is,” Nate replied.

“I’ve got something I need to talk to him about.” Walt stood and headed for the door. “Have a good workout, guys.”

“He’s most likely in the command center,” Nate called. “The SkyCycles need maintenance.”

Walt smiled. “Thanks, Nate.”

When Nate turned back, Ray was smirking. Nate decided to go on the offensive, just for fun.

“When are you going to man up and do something about your crush on Walt?”

Ray’s expression was stunned. He was speechless for what must have been a record-breaking three seconds.

“I don’t have a crush on Walt. Who the fuck said I have a crush on Walt? We’re not a couple of emo ‘tweens, staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands in secret. What, you think we’re like you and Brad?”

“Oh, I know you’re not like Brad and me, ‘cause we’ve actually fucked.”  Nate smirked when Ray choked.  “How long are you going to go on humping Walt’s head then jacking off in the shower, _alone_?”

Ray slumped down on the bench Walt had vacated. “How did you figure it out?”

Nate snorted. “I was frozen in a block of ice at the age of twenty-five. I wasn’t born yesterday. Also, you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

“You have no room to talk,” Ray retorted.

“Actually, I do.  I stopped pining and knocked on Brad’s door wearing nothing but a pair of ripped jeans. You’re still pulling Walt’s pigtails.”

“Holy shit, LT!” Ray looked impressed despite himself. “He must’ve thought all his Chanukahs came at once.”  Ray’s expression all of a sudden went sly.  “Did he turn his dick into ice and fuck you with it?”

“Ray,” Nate said, lacing his voice with menace. “That was your one free pass. Don’t ask me again about Brad’s and my private activities.”

“Yes, sir.” Ray didn’t bother to hide his smile.

“So?” Nate demanded.

Ray became uncharacteristically serious. “Walt doesn’t feel the same way I do.  It’s different.”

Nate couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “As someone who has recently been on the receiving end of the attentions of a man with a crush, I can speak to this with some authority. The fact that Walt even gives you the time of day, given the level of your playground antics, is a clear indication that your feelings are reciprocated.”

“So, what, homes? If he didn’t like me he’d ignore me?”

Nate shook his head.  “If Walt didn’t like you, he’d have shot you with one of his fancy arrows the first time you humped him.”

Ray appeared to consider Nate’s words. “You think I should invite him to my room and answer the door naked with a rose between my teeth?”

Nate chose not to think of that image. Instead, he pictured Brad as he’d been last night; nothing but a towel around his hips and an impressive erection not hidden in the least.

“Why not just kiss him and let the rest progress naturally?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.  Not my style”

Nate threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine. Do what you want. Now let’s get started so I can kick your ass and get on with my day.”

“It’s not that easy to kick my ass.”

“It will be today. You’ve obviously turned into a scared pussy. Now get your ass up and try not to cry when I punch you.”

 **_Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, Hawkeye seeks out Iceman for some advice …_ **

Brad had just removed the casing on the engine of the first SkyCycle when the elevator doors opened. His heart rate kicked up a little at the hope that it was Nate, even though he knew that they’d both agreed on lunch.  He couldn’t help it.  He wanted to be around Nate again.  Now.

It was Walt who stepped out of the elevator; Brad was immensely relieved that it wasn’t Ray.

“Hey, Brad,” Walt greeted as he crossed the room. “Nate said I could probably find you here.”

Brad found that interesting. It was still early enough in the morning that contact between he and Nate could be suspect. Yet, Nate was upfront with his knowledge of Brad’s whereabouts.

“Is there something with which you require my specific assistance, Hasser?” Brad asked, starting his check of fluid levels and belt integrity. Last time he’d done this, he’d suspected all the belts would soon need replacing.

“Ray and Nate are working out so I thought I’d see if you need help with anything.” Walt pulled up the other leather-padded rolling stool.

Walt assisted Brad with vehicle maintenance from time to time but Brad suspected there was more to this visit.

“These are all going to need full service,” Brad said as he grabbed the tool he needed to remove the belts from the SkyCycle. “Wanna gather up the two-stroke oil and some spare belts?”

Walt was quick to comply. He laid out what Brad would need next to each of the vehicles before resuming his seat on the stool next to Brad.

The silence was pregnant. Brad didn’t really like getting involved in other people’s personal lives; he hated gossip and did everything possible to avoid listening to anyone bitch and cry about their personal problems and broken hearts.

On the other hand, Walt wasn’t exactly one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He never imposed on Brad, and he was smart and competent; for those reasons, Brad sort of liked him. Usually, he’d have to be drunk to have this kind of conversation but he couldn’t remember Walt ever getting drunk. Fuck it.

“Something on your mind, Hasser?” Brad asked.

“I know you don’t like talking about feelings and you don’t give a shit about who’s fucking who and who wants to fuck whom.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere? Or are you treating me to a demonstration of your personal powers of intuition when it comes to my social preferences?”

“How did you let Nate know you liked him,” Walt blurted. “I mean, as more than a friend. How did you guys figure out you wanted to be together?  _Together_  together?”

Brad had been wondering that very thing all morning. He was sure he’d kept his growing feelings for Nate well hidden. There was nothing he’d said or done that should have tipped his hand. Right up until the moment Nate had kissed him back, Brad would have bet the house that Nate didn’t find him the least bit attractive.

It was a puzzle that Brad didn’t have all the pieces to.

“I have no fucking idea,” he said, not looking up from the engine compartment of the SkyCycle. “As far as I can tell, Nate got back from our mission yesterday and decided he wanted to get laid. Most likely, my door was the closest one for him to knock on.”

Walt snorted derisively. “You don’t fucking believe that. The two of you can’t keep your eyes off of each other. You go out of your way to do shit for him. You don’t go out of your way for _anyone_ , Brad.”

Remembering how Poke and Mike had recently harassed him about how they thought he felt about Nate, Brad wondered if he hadn’t been quite as subtle as he’d thought.

“Nate is apparently much smarter than even I realized. He must have gathered intel that told him his advances would be welcome. He designed a tactical plan and executed it flawlessly. I was incapable of any form of resistance, not that the thought of resisting ever crossed my mind. The result was a mutually pleasant evening.”

“Well, Ray isn’t Nate,” Walt said darkly.

Brad snorted. “The level of understatement inherent in that observation is astounding. You, however, are somewhat more intelligent and observant than Ray. I question your sanity, given that we’re sitting here discussing your desire to convince Ray to have sex with you, but to each his own. Perhaps it’s time for you to take a page from Nate’s book and formulate your own aggressive plan of action.”

“Yeah, but what if the idea of resisting occurs to him?”

Brad looked over at Walt, not believing what he was hearing. “I rescind my earlier generous assessment of your intelligence and observational skills. If Ray were to hump your head with any more frequency, we could set our clocks by him. He doesn’t use a bow and arrow and yet, he’s always at target practice with you. I bet he gives you little gifts when no one else is looking.”

Brad turned back to the SkyCycle, realizing just how close to home his last statement hit. Maybe he’d been a little more obvious than he’d realized.

“So, you think if I just knocked on his door one night and told him what I wanted, he’d be okay with it?” Walt asked, his tone doubtful.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Is that what Nate did?”

“Nate was a little less direct in what he said, and a little more provocative in what he wore,” Brad said. “And that’s all I’m going to tell you. It’s called a ‘personal life’ for a reason.”

Walt nodded his understanding and agreement.

They worked together in near silence. Brad finished with the last SkyCycle and checked his watch. It was nearly noon.

“Can you close up the engine casing?” he asked Walt. “Nate wants to go to lunch and I should start getting cleaned up.”

“Sure, no problem,” Walt said, smiling slightly.

Brad had gotten all the oil and grease from under his fingernails and was drying his hands as he exited the bathroom in the command center. The elevator doors opened and Nate stepped out. Brad felt suddenly light headed.

“How’d it go, Walt?” Nate called, obviously not seeing Brad.

“All done, LT,” Hasser answered. “How’d your workout go?”

“Ray was distracted and easily defeated,” Nate replied. “I’m disappointed that I even got out of bed for the workout.”

Brad chuckled. Nate spun and caught sight of him. He smiled and Brad felt gut punched.

“When Ray tells the story, I’m sure he’ll be saying he let you win,” Walt said, wiping his hands with a rag. “Is he back in his rooms?”

“I think that was where he was headed, yes.”

“Enjoy lunch,” Walt said as he headed for the elevator.

Nate crossed to where Brad stood. As soon as the doors closed behind Walt, Brad’s arms were filled with Nate’s warm body. He opened his mouth under Nate’s, letting him sweep his tongue in. It was affectionate and enthusiastic.  Brad had no doubt that Nate was just as happy to see him today as he had been last night.

“Any idea where you want to go for lunch?” Nate asked when he pulled back, eyes still resting on Brad’s mouth.

Brad’s rooms were first on the list, followed by Nate’s. They could grab something quick in the kitchen then spend the rest of the afternoon rolling around in a bed. But, as much as the idea appealed to Brad, something told him Nate might actually want to talk with words.

“There are a couple of good places in Westlake,” Brad answered. “We can sit in the sun, order some drinks.”

“That sounds good,” Nate said, smiling up at him and seeming pleased. “Do you want to drive?”

They climbed into Brad’s Mustang GT and Brad lowered the convertible top. They chose Marmalade Café because it was small and would most likely clear out quickly after the lunch rush.

“I get the distinct impression, sir, that you’re going to make me talk about my feelings,” Brad said when they’d ordered.

Nate’s head snapped up. Brad couldn’t see his eyes, since they were both wearing sunglasses, but the lift of Nate’s brows above the rims was unmistakable.

“Given the tone and content of that statement, I’m given to believe that you are reticent to do so, despite the likely need,” Nate replied.

“I’m more a man of action than words.”

Nate snorted. “That is ridiculous. However, at this juncture I have the feeling you’d be better served in _asking_ questions, than you would in sharing your feelings.”

Brad realized Nate was right. There were things he hadn’t even realized he wanted answers to.

“What was last night about?” Brad asked, his mouth in full-auto, even as his brain was trying to put on the safety.

“What did it feel like it was about?”

“This isn’t going to go well if you answer every question with a question.”

Nate shrugged.  “I got tired of talking and flirting. I like the little gifts you always give me and I like the way you touch me.  I decided I wanted you to touch me with intent. It didn’t appear you were going to make the first move so I escalated things between us.”

Brad chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it. Did you mean it when you said there’d be a next time?” It scared Brad to ask that question.

“Yes.”

“What is it that you want from me in return?”

Nate’s pause was interminable. “I don’t understand.”

Brad shrugged. He thought it was obvious. “What do I have to be? What do I have to fix?”

“What do you have to be?” Nate muttered. He shook his head in what looked like disbelief. “Take off your sunglasses.”

“What?” Brad was confused.

Nate took off his own aviators. “I said take off your glasses,” it was definitely an order.

Brad set his aviators on the table and squinted slightly in the bright summer sun. Nate leaned across the table and looked at him for what seemed like several long minutes.

“Oh my god, you’re serious,” he finally said, his expression troubled.

Brad wondered how he’d fucked it up right out of the gate. It had to be a record, even for him. He slid his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly he wasn’t very hungry.

“Absolutely nothing,” Nate finally said.

He’d really thought that asking Nate instead of trying to guess would have gotten him to stick around a little longer than the others had. Brad had never miscalculated this badly in his life. He felt sick.

He nodded his understanding. “Do you want to be friends? Or are we just colleagues now?” Brad asked. His leg was bouncing and he couldn’t make it stop.

“Are you even listening to me?” Nate asked. He hadn’t replaced his sunglasses and he was still leaning across the table. “There is absolutely nothing about you that needs to be changed or fixed. You’re not fucking broken, Brad.”

Nate looked so goddamn earnest when he said that. Brad had no idea what to say.

“You know what I want from you?” Nate asked suddenly. He sounded angry. “I want you to quit comparing what we have to what you had with Angel and with Mystique. I want you to quit living like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. I want you to keep on behaving the way you have been, since the day you fished me out of the ocean.”

Brad sat in stunned silence. He had no idea Nate knew about Angel and Mystique. He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill Ray or kiss him. He’d see how this went and then decide.

“My mutation,” Brad hesitated, wondering if ignorance wasn’t bliss.

“Your mutation only effects you physically, Brad,” Nate said, one corner of his mouth lifting in the beginnings of a smile. “I know you’re not literally made of ice.”

The tightness in Brad’s chest eased. The absence of pain was so acute he was lightheaded.

Brad was saved from humiliating himself further by the waitress bringing their lunch. Their conversation during the meal was light – they talked mainly about Nate’s ideas for modifications to the design of the troop-response Humvee the two of them had designed and Patterson had built, and agreed to work up some drawings when they got back to the mansion.

On the walk back to the car, Nate bumped his shoulder into Brad’s. “This thing works both ways, you know.”

“What thing is that, sir?”

“You don’t have to wait for me to always make the first move. You get to ask for what you want.”

Brad couldn’t think of anything else he could possible want at this point. Still, he knew himself well enough to know something would come up and he’d remember what Nate just said.


	13. Chapter 13

**_The Avengers’ mansion is buzzing with activity when Iceman and Captain America return …_ **

“You two need to come see this,” Mike called from the great room where the Avengers were gathered around the gigantic flat screen TV.

“What’s up, Gunny?” Brad asked as he and Nate entered the room.

“Fucking Ferrando,” Ray said from his perch on the sofa, “motherfucker is telling everyone who’ll listen that Nate poisoned him on purpose.”

“What the fuck?” Brad asked, watching the hideous visage of Red Skull - no longer a mask - fill the screen. “How does he justify taking over an entire airport?”

 _“Captain America, acting as an agent for Brian Patterson, broke into Ferrando’s home,”_ Red Skull spoke directly at the news camera. _“Once inside, he intentionally poisoned Ferrando with Dust of Death. Ferrando is now permanently scarred, forever forced to wear the face of the evil Red Skull.”_

“I did what?” Nate asked incredulously. “Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

“Is that McGraw behind him?” Walt asked from where he sat next to Ray.

 _“Brian Patterson sent Captain America to permanently silence Ferrando’s attempts to provide our great country with an invincible military that would allow all normal citizens to live in peace and security,”_ Red Skull continued. They were now able to clearly see Dave McGraw standing right behind him.

“Dammit,” Mike swore. “I think Nate’s about to be set up.”

 _“Their attempt on Ferrando’s life was unsuccessful. However, the Dust of Death took a great toll, a great toll. For weeks, Ferrando was affected mentally by the Dust. In an altered mental state, I took over the Citibank building in Los Angeles. Also in an altered mental state, I took over LAX yesterday. Today, I am in no such altered state. Ferrando has recovered all of his mental faculties.”_

“Here it comes,” Mike muttered.

 _“Never has there been a more urgent need for both the Mutant Registration Act and the Superhuman Registration Act,” Red Skull declared emphatically. “We must be able to identify and track these creatures so that they are not able to victimize the good and normal citizens of this country.”_

“And there it is,” Poke said on a heavy sigh.

 _“These mutants and these artificially enhanced creatures live among us with their unnatural powers, tainting our children and threatening our normal, natural way of life.”_

“Okay, I’m artificially enhanced but Brad, Eric and Tony were born with their skills. How much more natural can you get?” Nate demanded of no one.

 _“Patterson’s use of Captain America in an attempt to silence Ferrando in his advocacy for the good and normal people of this country is all the proof required that we must hunt down all mutants and super heroes. We must know where they are at all times. They must be stripped of their powers by our benevolent government so those powers can be used by the military to protect the good and honest normal people of this country.”_

“Every once in awhile it would be nice to be wrong about something,” Brad finally said, his fear for Nate’s well being rising by the moment.

 _“As we speak, Captain America - aware of his failure to subjugate Ferrando to his nefarious plans – has unleashed hundreds of Sleepers on multiple strategic locations across the country.”_

“How the hell did I do that?” Nate exclaimed.

 _“The good, hard-working people of this country are under attack from mutants and superheroes. It must end now. Ferrando is prepared to accept the surrender of Captain America. Ferrando calls upon the good, normal people of this country to rise up and demand that Captain America call off his misbegotten army of Sleepers and turn himself in to me on the helipad on the roof of 777 Fifth Avenue, in downtown Los Angeles.”_

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Mike said.

 _“When Captain America is securely in custody and the Sleepers neutralized, I urge you all to demand your legislators pass the Mutant Registration Act and the Superhero Registration Act immediately, so these evil freaks can be contained and controlled.”_

“This is so fucked,” Brad heard himself say. “This is so beyond fucked.”

 _“To Captain America himself I say, do yourself and your friends a favor; save all of your lives by calling off the Sleepers and surrendering yourself to me. It is useless to run. You cannot hide. Ferrando is waiting.”_

A talking head newscaster filled the screen with a recap of the recent events. Giving the typical inaccurate spin, all blame was laid at Nate’s feet. Footage of rampaging Sleepers was shown. It was speculated that both registration acts would easily pass now, given the breadth of Captain America’s evil plan. No one, absolutely no one, questioned Ferrando’s words or motives.

“What I don’t get,” Ray said, “is that anyone is believing that horror show, Red Skull, and completely ignoring Nate’s pretty face. How can a face that pretty be up to no good?”

“Ray, this is serious,” Brad snapped.

“I am being serious,” Ray insisted. “If he went on camera and batted those pretty green eyes, smiled that all-American smile and told his side of things, the women would all cream their panties and demand their men believe him. Problem solved.”

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this,” Mike said, “but Ray might have a point. Maybe we kept Nate too isolated. Maybe lettin’ the press see him, let ‘em get a good look at that sweet and honest face, and we wouldn’t be havin’ this problem.”

“It ain’t like the public cares about substance,” Poke added. “Look at how they love Patterson, just cause he’s like a rock star. He never tells nobody nothin’ that means anything. He just bullshits them then smiles and gets laid. Anybody else notice how Ferrando didn’t dare target Patterson? He’s comin’ after Nate.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Nate growled.

“It’s all moot,” Brad said over the rising voices. “He’s come after Nate. We have to figure out how to take out the Sleepers, prove Ferrando is behind everything, prove his motives regarding the registration acts are anything but virtuous, _and_ keep Nate out of his clutches.”

Nate finally spoke up. “If I turn myself over to Red Skull, he’ll stand-down the Sleepers and lives will be saved. None of you will be injured. It’s what I have to do.”

“See!” Ray cried. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Just look at that _ponem_. He’s so fuckin’ sincere. He actually believes that shit. Get him in front of a camera and he’ll have the whole country on its knees offering to blow him.”

Further discussion was interrupted by all electronic devices flashing to life and screens filling with the faces of Brian Patterson and Rudy Reyes.

“Gentlemen,” Patterson greeted. “Is anyone else as tired of this guy’s crap as I am?”

“Permission for a snatch and grab, sir?” Brad asked. “Although I can’t guarantee Red Skull would survive the trip to interrogation intact.”

Patterson chuckled. “Not quite yet, Brad. Let’s try something a little more above board first, shall we?”

“Can I assume you have a plan, sir?”

“I’ve just completed a conference call with Professor Xavier, Nick Fury, Storm, Rogue and Reed Richards. Rudy has taken phone calls from The Hulk, Spiderman and Daredevil. We all agree; Nate pretends to hand himself over to Red Skull while we all launch simultaneous strikes on the Sleeper locations and take them out.”

“No, absolutely not,” Brad interrupted, not waiting to hear the rest of the plan.

A strong hand suddenly gripped his arm tightly. “Brad, let him finish,” Nate demanded.

“As I said, Nate pretends to turn himself over. A small team of you will shadow him in order to identify Red Skull’s lair. At that point, you’ll extract Nate, fall back, and the entire team of Avengers will move in and uncover Red Skull’s true motivations.”

“There are entirely too many ways for this to go tits up,” Brad groused. “Am I the only one who thinks it’s wrong to risk Nate’s life like this?”

“Does Nate get a say in any of this?” Nate’s voice was laced with anger.

When Brad turned to look at him, Nate’s expression was dark. His annoyance with Brad was obvious. Brad knew better than to coddle Nate, but the idea of him getting anywhere within reach of Red Skull filled Brad with dread.

“Of course you do, Nate,” Patterson said calmly. “What would you like to say?”

“As long as the plan of execution is solid, I’m willing.”

Brad folded his arms over his chest and stared unseeing at the ceiling. He exhaled harshly. He wanted to hate Nate and his fucking altruism and idealism.  The problem was, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate Nate at all.  

“We had the feeling you would feel that way,” Patterson replied with a half smile. “If you and your Avengers will adjourn to the command center, you can coordinate with the teams and individuals you’ll be working with to formulate your own plan. Give me two minutes and I’ll meet you all there.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Nate asked, voicing Brad’s own confusion.

“Iron Man will be responding with the Avengers to take out these Sleepers,” Patterson replied. “Unless of course you’d prefer to utilize me on your shadow team. It’s your call, Nate.”

“I guess we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

When the screen went dark, the Avengers began to head toward the command center.

Nate put a restraining hand on Brad’s arm. “You gents go on ahead,” he told the team. “Brad and I will catch up in a few minutes.”

To Brad’s surprise, the group went ahead without comment, even from Ray.

Turning to face Brad, Nate said imploringly, “Please don’t do this, Brad. Please don’t treat me like a damsel in distress. I need you. I need you to lead the shadow team and that means you have to put your personal feelings for me aside.”

Brad clenched his jaw, unable to form a reply that would be anything other than begging Nate not to do this.

“I understand,” Nate continued into the silence. “I’m as concerned for your safety as you are for mine. We have to do this thing and we have to do it well. People need us.”

“I’m not the one who was called out by Red Skull,” Brad said tightly. “I’m not the one walking into the lion’s den like a lamb to slaughter.”

“You _will_ be walking into the lion’s den, Brad, because I need you to pull me out once the Sleepers are out of commission.” Nate paused, his eyes searching Brad’s face for what, Brad didn’t know. “Is this how it’s always going to be? Are we going to have to have a conversation like this before every mission?”

Nate’s question stunned Brad. He’d never acted this way when he’d been an X-Man; he’d never felt this worried over Angel rushing headlong into danger. Fuck. Nate was right – he couldn’t react like this each time they had a mission. Brad needed to have Nate’s six and Nate needed to know Brad was there.

“You had better make it out of this, Nate,” Brad said, voice low and rough with unspoken emotion. “When this is over, you had better be back at this mansion.”

Nate’s smile warmed Brad. “ _Cum scuto_ ,” he said.

“And what does that mean?” Brad asked, lifting a single brow.

“Google it,” Nate answered, just before he placed a warm kiss on Brad’s lips. “Let’s go kick Red Skull’s ass.”

Brad followed Nate. He realized he probably always would.

 **_The Avengers finalize their plans of attack on the Sleepers, coordinated with mutant and superhero teams across the country. Captain America explains how he will distract Red Skull while his shadow team of Iceman, Nighthawk and Beast track his location and prepare to extract him …_ **

Brad stood at Nate’s shoulder, memorizing every facet of both missions. He found very few faults with Nate’s strategy and his input was always eagerly accepted when he did. Brad was always taken by surprise when his opinion was solicited but he wasn’t about to let Nate down by not having a useful answer ready.

He watched Nate glance up at the wall of television monitors, each of which displayed the visage of a superhero, or the leader of a team of superheroes or mutants. It was good to see Dr. Xavier again, as well as Rogue and Storm. He just wished the circumstances were better.

“So, let’s recap,” Nate addressed the screens and glanced around at the people in the room with him. Brad nodded when Nate’s eyes met his, giving him silent support and encouragement. “All solo superheroes will stay in their respective cities, responding with local law enforcement or military to eliminate the nearby Sleeper threat. Storm and Rogue, you’ll respond with your teams of mutants. Storm, you’ll take out the Sleepers in Chicago, Rogue, you’ve got Dallas. X-Men, S.H.I.E.L.D., Fantastic Four; you’ve all got transportation fast enough to make it out west in a timely manner. X-Men, you’ve got Seattle. Mr. Richards, your team will cover San Francisco. S.H.I.E.L.D. will rescue and protect the Naval bases in San Diego. Iron Man and the Avengers will take care of things in Los Angeles.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a larger shadow team?” Patterson asked from where he was leaning against a wall, watching the proceedings with his usual humor.

“I’m sure,” Nate replied firmly. “It’s a task better suited to a small and stealthy team. Beast’s strength and speed, Nighthawk’s ability with flight, and the flexibility of Iceman’s mutation should be all I need.” Nate paused and smiled. “Their task is tracking and extraction. Once they’ve pulled me out, you’ll get your opportunity to kick some super villain ass.”

Patterson smiled and inclined his head slightly. “Honored.”

Nate turned to Brad. “You okay with your part of the plan?” he asked.

“Insofar as I’m okay with the larger plan,” Brad replied, unable to keep from expressing his discomfort with using Nate as bait.

Nate’s mouth thinned and he arched both brows. Brad felt chastised and wondered how the fuck Nate could do that without uttering a word.

“We’ll survey the helipad from a rooftop about a half-mile away,” Brad said, capitulating to Nate’s unspoken order. “Ray and Walt have several tracking devices they’re going to plant all over your costume. Ray will monitor your location from an e-tablet. When you’re stationary and the Sleepers have been dealt with, we’ll move in and extract you. The remainder of the team will overrun Red Skull’s hideout, take him into custody and compile the necessary evidence to prove he’s been behind everything, all along.”

Ray suddenly spoke up. “I don’t get why we don’t just leave the trackers on Nate, all go take out the Sleepers, then all go get Nate. Fuck; that way we’d even have a man on the inside. Why two teams?”

“The shadow team is to ensure Nate’s safety,” Brad replied. “If Red Skull goes to move him or harm him before everyone else responds, we’ll pull him out. Once we’re sure he’s safe, we can always turn around and provide a second wave of attack.”

“Yeah, you got a point,” Ray said, considering. “Now that I think about it, it’s probably a good plan cause, I think Nate’s in more danger from McGraw than he is from Red Skull.”

“You guys are serious when you say he actually wants to _be_ Captain America?” Nate said incredulously. “You guys actually think he’s a danger to me.”

The room fell silent in answer.

“Still convinced this is the right plan?” Brad asked Nate pointedly.

Nate met his eyes unwaveringly. “Yes.”

Somehow, Brad knew he was going to say that.

“Okay, gents,” Patterson said, stepping away from the wall. “I guess it’s time we all suit up.”

Most of the team disappeared into their changing cubicles. Patterson kicked what looked like a red and gold hard-side suit case. Brad watched in amazement as the case opened up on its own, folding out until it _enfolded_ Patterson. The mask snapped down into place and Brad was standing face-to-face with Iron Man.  Show off.

Turning away, Brad pulled up a web browser on one of the large T.V. wall monitors. He typed in the words Nate had spoken to him earlier. When his answer appeared onscreen, Brad snorted in affectionate humor. Then he read another search option – _Did you mean …_ he clicked on it.

The result gave him not only a translation but the real quote and its origin. Suddenly, he understood.

One by one, the Avengers exited the cubicles, dressed in varying designs of black leather and bright colors. Eric and Poke had activated their mutations and Nate was pulling his hood and mask down over his face. At least his brilliant eyes were left visible. His costume was a little less retarded for that reason alone.

Iron Man lumbered toward the large exit as the door rolled upward. The Avengers stood glancing from one to the other, as if each had more to say.

“Colossus, Hawkeye,” Nate said quietly but firmly. “You need to be oscar-mike.”

“See you guys on the other side,” Colossus said, as he and Hawkeye climbed into the Humvee prototype Brad and Nate had designed and Patterson had built.

The vehicle rolled out the door and up the ramp with the roar of its powerful diesel engine. Iron Man followed, levitating gracefully.

“You sure you wanna do this, sir?” Beast asked Captain America.

“Absolutely,” he replied without blinking. “Now you guys need to step off.”

Nighthawk stepped to the door and was gone in the flap of his mechanical wings. Espera fired up the engine on his SkyCycle. He moved it just outside the door, waiting for Brad.

“I know you don’t like this plan,” Nate said suddenly, surprising Brad.

“Doesn’t matter if I like it or not,” Brad replied. “It’s the course of action you’ve decided on. I have my orders and I will execute them to the very best of my ability.”

Nate huffed a laugh. “You’d have made one hell of a Marine.”

“They don’t accept mutants,” Brad informed him.

“Their loss.”

“Sir,” Brad started and stopped. He started over again. “Nate. _Aut cum scuto, aut in scuto_."

He watched as Nate’s face split in a wide grin. “I promise.”

“Preferably, with it.”

“That is the current plan.”

Before he could make a fool of himself, Brad turned to leave. At the exit door, he didn’t dare look back. He took just a moment to clear his head, then turned all of his attention to generating the ice ramp; seconds later, he and Poke were in motion, rapidly catching up to Nighthawk.

 **_Brad, Ray and Poke take up an over-watch position, half a klick away…_ **

They moved rapidly through the Valley, following the 101 corridor into downtown LA. Nighthawk landed on the roof of the building they’d chosen for their over-watch position. Brad brought the ramp down onto the same roof, Beast sliding to a stop behind him. They were several floors above and about a half klick away from the building Nate would be on when he turned himself over to Red Skull.

Lying on their bellies at the edge of the roof, Brad took the small but powerful spyglasses that Beast handed him. Brad really did like Patterson’s gadgets. The glasses gave him a clear view of Nate, roaring up Fifth on his custom modified Patterson Industries Harley Davidson.

“Tell me again why we aren’t on top of the Library Tower?” Brad asked no one in particular. The Library Tower was directly across the street from 777 Fifth, where Nate was headed.

“Because it’s so fucking tall it creates its own weather up there. No fuckin’ way I could even fly up there, let alone the three of us hide out all ninja-like,” Nighthawk answered.

Yeah, Brad knew that. He wasn’t happy about it, but he knew it. “We couldn’t find a building closer?”

“Not that was tall enough, but not too tall,” Nighthawk supplied again.

Nate’s motorcycle slowed as it approached the target building. A small number of Sleepers ringed the base of the tower. Brad imagined there were more inside that had secured the building so Nate could make it to the roof unmolested.

“Shouldn’t the helo already be there waiting for him?” Beast asked.

“It makes sense that it would come in only after they have confirmation it’s really Captain America who shows up,” Brad said. “Otherwise it’s a sitting duck for mutants and freaks like us.”

“I like it when the bad guys are dumb,” Beast continued. “Makes ‘em easier to catch.”

“That must be why most of your family is in jail,” Brad mused, reaching for humor to ease the anxiety knotting his gut.

“Are you sayin’ my people are dumb ‘cause they’re Mexican?” Beast asked.

“No, I’m saying they’re dumb ‘cause they got caught.”

“Yeah, well, they are some dumb motherfuckers.”

Nate disappeared inside the building. It was the longest ten minutes of Brad’s life before Nate reappeared on the roof. He watched Nate shift his shield from his right hand to his left, and back again. It was their signal that he was okay. At least for now.

“Trackers online?” Brad asked Nighthawk.

Consulting the elaborate screen embedded in his manacle, he answered, “Fuck yeah, they are. Hawkeye and me don’t use shitty products, homes.”

“Now, where’s that helo?” Brad asked in a low voice.

They were ready to be oscar-mike when the bird showed so they could follow it to Red Skull’s hideout. Brad was determined to snatch Nate back before anything at all could possibly happen to him.

They were all expecting a slow-moving, loud-thumping helicopter. When the fast-moving and sleek craft suddenly descended over where Nate stood, it took them by surprise.

Brad leapt to his feet. “What the fuck?”

“Where did that come from?” Beast asked.

“Whatever it is, it’s got some sort of signal jamming,” Nighthawk said, skimming his finger over the colorful screen of the e-tablet on his forearm.

“What does that mean?” Brad demanded, gesturing for Beast to mount his SkyCycle.

“It means they’re jamming every fucking tracker we have planted on Nate _and_ his shield,”

“Fuck,” Brad growled, extending his arms and forcing any and all humidity around him to form into ice. He shoved the crystals together with the force of his will faster than he ever had before. He stepped onto the slide and crossed the half-mile distance faster than he’d ever traveled before.

Brad watched helplessly as Sleepers descended on Nate, overpowering him and carrying him onto the hovering craft. Brad was grimly pleased to see Nate fighting back, using his fists, his feet and his shield to drop a few of the Sleepers and send sparks flying from a few others.

Dread clawed painfully at Brad’s gut even as he rejoiced. It wasn’t the plan for Nate to fight back. He was supposed to be handing himself over to Red Skull willingly. What was wrong that Nate would go against the plan and resist?

“Nighthawk,” Brad called into comms as the craft’s hatch closed, trapping a still battling Nate inside. “Try to get the tracking signals back online.”

“Already workin’ on it, buddy,” Nighthawk responded.

“Beast, how far behind me are you?”

“Right on your six, Iceman.”

The craft ceased its hover and began to drift upward, away from the roof of the tower. Brad arced the ice slide sharply, plotting an intercept course. He forced the shaping water molecules to form almost as fast as they gathered.

The flying craft was gathering speed. Brad knew one of them needed to reach it before it hit full speed or they’d never be able to catch it.

“How close are you, Nighthawk?” he asked into comms.

“You’re really fuckin’ movin’,” Nighthawk replied. “I can’t keep up.”

Brad realized it was all up to him.

Somehow, he managed to force more speed from the forming ice. He let a light coating of water float on top, lessening the drag and giving both him and Beast a faster slide. With one final burst of strength and speed, Brad launched himself vertically, desperately reaching for the bottom of the flying craft. He sensed Beast right behind him, having dumped the SkyCycle and used his own mutant strength and agility to get airborne.

Brad was too fucking slow and too fucking late. The craft picked up speed rapidly and shot upward and forward. From the corner of his eye Brad saw Beast shoot past him, gaining just a little more altitude as he tried to bury his long, thick claws in the metal skin of the craft. The flying machine was just too fast and too maneuverable. Brad felt the displacement of air as it blasted out of his reach and rapidly out of his sight.

Suddenly, Brad was losing altitude. He began to tumble toward the roof of the tower. Quickly gathering his wits, Brad formed an ice slide that let him glide gently onto the helipad. Moments later, Beast landed gracefully beside him in a crouch.

“Fuck, Iceman, I was so close. I’m sorry.”

“We both tried,” he answered, distracted. “I was afraid this plan was gonna go tits up. I just never thought it would happen immediately.”

Nighthawk landed beside them, a wide, maniacal smile on his face. “I’m a motherfucking genius, bro,” he declared as he folded his wings behind him.

“What are you ranting about?” Brad asked, agitated.

“While the two of you were choreographing your new trapeze act, minus the trapeze, I was remotely programming the tracking devices and scrolling through frequencies. I hacked their motherfucking jamming program, homes.”

“Is this news I want to hear? If so, get to the point. If not, shut the fuck up and figure out how to locate Nate.”

“If you were paying attention the first time, you’d have heard me say I remotely programmed the trackers. I got a signal on _Captain America_.”

Nighthawk’s emphasis on Nate’s code name made Brad self-consciously aware that he’d slipped and used Nate’s given name.

Ignoring the way Nighthawk was gloating and the way Beast was giving him concerned looks, Brad asked, “Where are they headed? Can we pursue them?”

“You and I can,” Nighthawk replied. “Beast broke his little snowmobile when he jumped off of it trying to catch a flying aircraft.”

Brad followed Nighthawk’s gesture and saw the twisted and mangled form of what used to be Beast’s SkyCycle.

“Hey, I can run really fuckin’ fast on four limbs. I only ride that snowmobile cause it’s fun,” Beast replied. He held up his hands to display his claws. “These motherfuckers make great ice picks. You make the slide, Iceman; I’ll be right behind you.”

Brad gestured for Nighthawk to take flight. “We need to catch up to them before something happens to … Captain America.”

To Brad’s relief, Nighthawk didn’t speak. He stepped off the edge of the roof, unfurled his wings and took flight. Brad and Beast followed right behind him.

They were back over the Valley when Nighthawk came over comms. “ _It’s a straight north-west trajectory. I expected an indirect route, maybe some evasive maneuvers_.”

Brad was thinking the same thing. “Any chance they _let_ you reactivate the trackers. Could this be a trap?”

“ _Possible, but I doubt it. Not the way I had to go about it. Maybe they just think no one’s following them_.”

“Let’s be sure to hang back and approach carefully, just in case.” Brad wanted no mistakes that might jeopardize Nate’s safety.

“ _Roger that_.”

They were over Westlake when Nighthawk gave an update. “ _They’ve stopped. They’re stationary_. In _fucking Oxnard. Can you believe that shit? You’d think Red Skull could afford digs in a better town. Santa Barbara, maybe_.”

Brad’s mind raced over possible locations the craft might be able to land and what the implications might be for Nate. “Lots of wide open space in Oxnard. Agricultural fields; land slated for development.”

“ _I guess I shoulda seen this coming. They’re at the National Guard Armory_.”

“That almost makes sense,” Brad replied. “Red Skull is trying to build an army for the government. The armory is heavily armed and well-fortified. It’s also in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Brad’s heart plummeted into his belly as he spoke. Extracting Nate unharmed was beginning to look like a Herculean task.

They reached Camarillo and slowed their approach.

“Let’s go in slow, recon the area, then fall back and formulate a plan,” Brad ordered. He forced himself to focus on formulating a solid plan. A good plan executed well, Nate had said. The planning would keep him from contemplating worst-case-scenarios.

Brad brought them down in an undeveloped field about a quarter klick away from the Armory. A quick look through the optics and they saw several Sleepers standing as guards, encircling the Armory. Tanks and other assorted assault vehicles were contained in a fenced area at the far end of the building.

“Think we can take out the guards so I can get onto the roof?” Brad asked.

“What are you gonna do on the roof?” Beast asked.

“See those raised skylights?” he asked. “Use them to recon the inside. See where and how they’re holding Captain America and how we can get him the hell out of there.”

“Fuck it,” Nighthawk said. “Let’s go get some. What’s your plan, Iceman?”

“Blitz attack from above,” Brad answered. “Take out as many as you can. Winner doesn’t pay for a beer for a week.”

“Prepare to go broke, motherfuckers,” Nighthawk declared, stowing his spyglasses and unfurling his wings.

Beast just snorted and shook his head. His fangs glinted between his parted lips, the only indication he was laughing at Nighthawk.

“Your mouth will warn them you’re coming,” Brad retorted. He was glad they were at his back. He appreciated their enthusiasm and determination to extract Nate safely. If this worked, he’d remember to thank them.

They approached from above. Beast leapt from the slide and tackled his first Sleeper. Brad transitioned the slide to a thick pillar of ice. It embedded in the ground next to his target and he buried an ice spike in the Sleeper’s neck joint as he landed. Nighthawk made a diving attack on a third side of the building.

It wasn’t silent but it was quiet enough they made quick work of the patrolling Sleepers. When all four sides of the building were clear, they regrouped.

“Well, that was pretty fuckin’ ninja,” Brad commented. “There are exits front and rear. Each of you take one. Keep an eye out for any incoming hostiles. If anyone inside starts to exit, I’ll notify you on comms.”

Brad formed a ladder and silently climbed to the roof of the Armory as Beast and Nighthawk each headed for opposite ends of the building. When he reached the roof, Brad scattered the ladder’s water molecules. Slowly, carefully, he stepped on the raised girders of the steel roof.

He stifled the urge to punch through the skylight and leap through it. It wouldn’t do Nate any good, and might even get him hurt.

When he reached the first of three raised skylights, it was just as Brad feared – heavy padlocks secured the hatch doors. Brad examined the lock. It was your basic metal lock; easily susceptible to metal fatigue. Gripping the lock in his fist, Brad rapidly, repeatedly agitated the water molecules, lowering and raising the temperature in the metal. After at least a hundred cycles, he gave the lock a tug. The metal gave easily, fatigued past its tensile strength.

Brad lifted the hatch carefully and glanced down. On the Armory floor beneath him was a fleet of Humvees. A quick glance to the side told him what he was looking for was in a clear space at the center of the building.

Quietly closing the hatch, Brad traversed the girders to the center skylight. He repeated the process on that lock until it snapped. Lifting the hatch, Brad looked down.

Rage coursed through him at the sight of Nate, secured in chains he was willing to bet were Adamantium. The chains were strung over a ceiling girder to Brad’s left.  Nate was surrounded by several figures. Red Skull appeared to be overseeing whatever was happening. U.S. Agent stalked around Nate’s restrained form, gesturing madly. Occasionally his voice raised loud enough Brad could hear him rant but couldn’t make out his words.

Further toward the end of the room stood several electronic devices that looked like they belonged in a hospital or a laboratory. The people circulating in white lab coats told Brad they were experimenting on Nate, taking samples of him like he was just a science experiment.

He was going to put an end to this shit right now.

Silently closing the hatch, Brad leaned back against it and hailed Nighthawk and Beast on comms. When they joined him on the roof, he explained what he’d seen.

“Nate’s chains might be Adamantium, but this building ain’t,” Beast observed.

“Your point?” Brad demanded, almost afraid to hope he had a workable idea.

“Doesn’t extreme cold make metal brittle?”

“Rapid and successive changes in temperature, yes,” Brad confirmed, remembering his own trick with the locks.

Beast put a blue-furred hand over a set of rivets holding a girder in place. “This the one they got him chained to?”

Brad’s heartbeat quickened as he began to see Beast’s plan forming. “Yeah.”

“So, you get it brittle enough for me to bust it; Nighthawk can swoop down and fly Captain America outta there. We worry about the Adamantium when we got him clear. Patterson’s _gotta_ have something that’ll work.” Beast made it sound as simple as a training run.

Brad knew nothing was ever as easy it seemed. “There are too many Sleepers in there, plus the medical personnel. You’ll need a distraction.”

“Dude, you’re gettin’ pretty good at shoving those icicles into the Sleepers’ necks,” Nighthawk said. “Think you can handle it?”

He could handle that and more if it meant getting Nate clear, unharmed.

Brad’s pillar of ice embedded itself in the floor with a loud rending sound. Everyone in the Armory startled, those closest to it jumped back. When his feet touched the ground, Brad forced the ice back into water and it rained down on them all with a huge splash. Sleepers that came in contact with it began to spark and sizzle, their movements growing more and more sluggish until they didn’t move anymore. The water puddle made the linoleum floor slick and the medical personal found it difficult to stay on their feet.

As Sleeper reinforcements closed in on Brad, he blasted them with flying ice crystals and water. The slushy combination made them short-circuit. He forced himself to concentrate on the Sleepers when all he wanted was to fight his way toward Nate. Brad resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to turn and look for Nate; to make sure McGraw didn’t have his hands him.

Above him there was a loud crash and the sound of ripping and tearing metal. The chains securing Nate to the ceiling began to fall and his body buckled slightly.

It was all Brad could do not to rush toward him. He had to stick to the plan and trust the Nighthawk would be there in time. A part of Brad, the one that still seemed capable of hope, realized that Nate would kick his ass when this was over, if Brad rush to his side as if he were helpless.

From the corner of his eye, Brad saw Nate steady himself and gather up lengths of the Adamantium links. He swung them quickly, viciously, aiming for Sleepers and U.S. Agent. The clanging sound of metal connecting with metal rang loudly through the Armory as Nate connected. Sleepers began to fall around him.

The sound of U.S. Agent’s shouts rose above the din. Brad chanced a glance in Nate’s direction and was grimly satisfied to see him holding the Agent at bay with violently swinging lengths of chains. More sleepers were moving in and he didn’t have much time, though.

Seemingly from nowhere, Nighthawk made his move. He swooped down from the skylight and snatched up Nate. His mechanical wings lifted them both quickly toward the high ceiling, carrying Nate to safety. . Both U.S. Agent and Red Skull lunged to stop them, but Nighthawk was too fast. With several powerful sweeps of his wings, he and Nate were out the skylight.

Brad formed an ice ladder to the skylight above him, shattering the hatch cover as it expanded through. He was going to have to climb pretty fucking fast since he was the last one left inside and Red Skull and U.S. Agent were advancing on him with menace.

“Jesus Christ, Iceman,” U.S. Agent cried. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

That had him stepping down from the ladder and facing the two men he realized he’d come to despise. “I know exactly what I’ve done and who I’ve done it for. I’ll sleep very well tonight.”

“Ferrando thought better of you, Brad,” Red Skull’s raspy voice echoed loudly in the quieting Armory. “Neither you nor Lt. Fick are the men I thought you to be.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Brad said indolently.

“You might have succeeded this time but Ferrando _will_ have his army of super-soldiers. I have Captain America’s DNA and one day I _will_ have yours, as well.” Red Skull’s lipless smirk was hideous and Brad’s stomach turned at the sight, as well as the knowledge that his mission had been a partial failure. “Ferrando was willing to let you walk away once you’d made your contribution. Lt. Fick would have been free to return to active duty with the Marine Corps, complete with a promotion. Ferrando will not be that generous again.”

“As I have firsthand knowledge of multiple lies you’ve told in recent days, you’ll understand when I call bullshit,” Brad fired back. “You’re out to exterminate every superhero and every _homo-sapiens-mutatis_ you can identify. The reason you want the DNA of those you detest continues to elude me, though. Particularly Captain America’s. His powers can be obtained with this Super-Soldier Serum.”

“Gene-splicing,” Red Skull answered simply.

Brad shook his head, feigning ignorance. He had a fair idea of Ferrando’s plans but he wanted to hear them spoken, see what other incriminating confessions he could capture on his open comm.

Red Skull obliged Brad by answering. “Lt. Fick’s DNA contains the most valuable trait of all; the ability to survive the conversion process. Something inside of him makes alteration and enhancement possible and it will serve as the foundation of my new clone project. A genetically engineered army of super-clones, possessing every useful superpower and mutation in existence will be invincible. America will be invincible. Never again will anyone be foolhardy enough to attack us; to resist when we move to implement a stable government in their countries or to avail ourselves of the natural resources they themselves are too primitive to need.”

“And who will this army of super-soldiers answer to?” Brad asked. Part of already knew the answer.

“To Ferrando, of course.” Red Skull drew himself up. “As Secretary of Defense, it’s only appropriate.”

“Of course,” Brad said mockingly. “Are you going to lead them into battle, too?”

“That honor falls to me,” U.S. Agent said, startling Brad. He’d almost forgotten McGraw was even there.

Brad snorted contemptuously. “That is just so colossally retarded.”

U.S. Agent took a step toward Brad causing him to tense. “I have all the same strengths and skills that Captain America has! I have the same training, the same knowledge, the same experience! You have never respected me; none of you have. You all laugh at me, don’t take me seriously. I almost had Bryan Patterson convinced to let me take on Captain America’s identity when the three of you had to go and rescue the real one.”

“You think I should have left him frozen and drifting in the ocean?” Brad asked incredulously.

“Yes!” U.S. Agent hissed. “It was bad enough you fished the real Captain America out of the ocean, but then you welcomed him into the Defenders with open arms. Everyone likes him. You all respect him. You’re the worst, Brad. You don’t like anybody but as soon as Captain America shows up, there’s nothing you won’t do for him. That camaraderie, that friendship, that _respect_ should have been mine!”

“You’re not Nate Fick,” Brad shouted, bringing McGraw’s tirade to an abrupt end.  He spat.  “You never could be.”

U.S. Agent gave a curt nod. “Well, when he’s been dealt with, I _will_ be Captain America.”

McGraw made a quick sideways movement and Brad saw what he was reaching for; Nate’s shield. Red Skull must have known Brad was about to make a move because he lunged forward. With a flick of his hand, Brad spread a large patch of slippery ice on the concrete floor of the Armory. Red Skull lost his footing and fell hard.

As U.S. Agent reached Nate’s shield, Brad kicked out. He landed a foot in McGraw’s chest and sent him tumbling backward. Brad snatched up Nate’s shield and sprinted for his ice ladder. He was tempted to stay and fight, wanted to put his fist through McGraw’s face, but his desire to make sure Nate was safe and sound overrode everything.  Brad began to climb the ice ladder. His progress was hindered by Nate’s shield. He wasn’t used to carrying it, but he wasn’t about to leave it behind. It belonged to Nate.

Suddenly, the ladder shuddered. Glancing up, Brad saw Beast and Nighthawk working together to haul the ladder through the skylight. He kept climbing, making it clear of his pursuers below.

As Brad gained his feet, Nighthawk launched himself from the roof, Nate’s chains clutched tightly in his metal talons.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, let Patterson come deal with these whack-jobs,” Beast said.

Brad formed an ice slide and they were all off the roof.

“Head south,” he said into his comm.

“ _Already goin’ that direction_ ,” Nighthawk responded.

As they crossed over the deserted parking lot of an outlet mall, Brad decided they’d fled far enough. He needed to make sure Nate was okay.

“Let’s set down here,” he ordered.

As Brad touched down on the pavement, Nighthawk was helping a still bound Nate to sit down on a curb. Brad dropped his mutation completely as he approached Nate, running his eyes over him to make sure there were no visible injuries.

Crouching in front of Nate, Brad resisted the urge to run his hands over him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine now, yes,” he replied with a firm nod.

“Did they hurt you?” Brad asked, aware of the rough sound of his own voice.

“Minimally. Some of the samples they took were a little painful. Nothing permanent though.” Nate was watching him closely and it made Brad’s heart pound.

“We gotta figure out how to get you out of those chains,” he said, examining the links.

“They’re Adamantium,” Nate said.

“I figured as much.” Brad looked back up into Nate’s eyes. “I’ll figure something out.”

The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted. “I know you will,” he said softly. “You always do.”

Standing up, Brad hailed Gunny on the comms. “Iceman for Station M.”

 _“Go ahead, Iceman,”_ Mike replied.

“What’s Bryan’s status with the Sleeper attacks?”

 _“Those three made quick work of those automated tin cans. We been waitin’ to hear from you.”_

“We had some complications but we’re clear now. Have everyone meet us at the Outlet Center in Camarillo. Red Skull has been hiding out in the National Guard Armory in Oxnard.”

 _“How original. I’ll tell Patterson. I take it from your calm tone of voice that Captain America is in one piece?”_

“He is, but we’re going to need Bryan’s help with some Adamantium chains.”

 _“I’ll send him your way.”_

Brad spent the next several minutes examining Nate’s bonds. They were carefully layered chains of Adamantium, all of which were secured multiple times with Adamantium locks.

The dull roar of Iron Man’s anti-grav engines gradually became audible. Brad glanced up to see the bright glow against the night sky.

Iron Man landed several feet away. The expressionless red and gold mask looked menacing with its glowing slit eyes. Brad liked Bryan Patterson. He never, ever wanted to tangle with Iron Man.

With a whir of gears, Iron Man’s mask lifted.

“What have we here?” he asked, crossing to where Nate was seated. He examined one of the locks. “That cheap motherfucker. He goes to the expense of Adamantium chains but doesn’t spring for the good locks.” Iron Man turned toward Brad. “Use cold and heat to fatigue the internal mechanisms of the locks. When Colossus gets here, have him bust the damn things open. Only the casings are Adamantium. The mechanisms are a cheap alloy.”

Brad’s relief was acute as it washed over him. “When should we expect Colossus?”

Patterson smiled. “Hawkeye is driving that Humvee like a bat out of hell. With the engine I put in that fucker and the lack of traffic this time of night? They should only be a couple mics out.”

“What are you going to do?” Brad asked.

“I’m going to go have a few words with Ferrando. Anything I need to be aware of?”

Brad gave Iron Man an overview of their rescue mission and explained the confessions he’d captured on open comms.  “They took DNA samples from Nate,” he said pointedly, knowing Iron Man would understand.

Patterson shook his head in disgust. “Fucking McGraw, the little weasel. I’ll have Mike send one of my science teams to recover what they can and destroy the rest. I’m not letting any part of Nate fall into the wrong hands.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brad swallowed hard, knowing his words didn’t come close to expressing the level of his gratitude.

Patterson nodded, then Iron Man’s mask closed and he was gone in a roar of anti-grav engines.

Iron Man had guessed correctly, Colossus and Hawkeye arrived in the Humvee a few minutes later. Brad had repeatedly frozen and defrosted the lock mechanisms by that time; with a couple of well-placed fists, Colossus smashed the internal parts and Nate was free.

Brad’s palms itched once more with his need to run them over Nate and assure himself there were no wounds, no damage. Instead, he kept himself focused on the tasks at hand.

“You guys get up the road and help out Iron Man,” Brad ordered Colossus, Hawkeye and Beast. “Nighthawk and I will get Nate back to the mansion.”

 

~*~Translations~*~

 

Ponem - Yiddish for face. Basically, Ray says, 'just look at his cute face!'

 

Cum scuto - With my shield

 

Aut cum scuto, aut in scuto - Come home with your shield or on it


	14. Chapter 14

**  
_With Red Skull and U.S. Agent in custody, their nefarious plans revealed to the world, support for the Superhuman Registration Act and the Mutant Registration Act wanes. Captain America is exonerated and beloved by all. Bryan Patterson destroys all medical equipment from the Armory and Nate’s samples along with it. There is peace in the Avenger’s mansion …_   
**

Brad was inside his rooms, pacing. It was the first time in days he was home with no expectations, no demands on his time. He didn’t feel at home in his skin. It was like something was crawling just under the surface. He needed sleep but he couldn’t sit still for more than a minute, let alone drop off into slumber.

Things hadn’t gone as he’d expected after they’d rescued Nate and taken Red Skull and U.S. Agent into custody. Patterson had handed them over to the FBI and, to everyone’s surprise, been immediately summoned to D.C. to appear before the Committee. The full extent of Ferrando’s perfidy had been revealed during the hearings.

They’d barely finished their debriefs and after-actions when Nate’s testimony had been required, as had Brad’s. They’d both managed to sleep on the Avenger’s Quinjet as they flew to D.C., but hadn’t managed much since.

Gunny had been right; as soon as the Committee, the press and the public had gotten a good look at Nate, they’d fallen in love. Brad had watched some of their testimony on YouTube. Nate was so fucking genuine and earnest, it made Brad’s teeth ache. When he unleashed his dry humor at some of the more retarded questions he was asked, and quirked a half smile, Brad’s cock got hard in response. His effect on the world nearly equaled Patterson’s. When Nate spoke, people listened.

It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done; sitting beside Nate in the Committee chambers, seeing him dressed in an impeccable suit, smelling of soap and cologne and not being able to touch him.

To Brad’s utter amazement, his own caustic replies to the Committee had earned him a following of his own. He was the defiant one; the rebel who questioned authority and demanded it prove its legitimacy. Nate had laughed at his dismay the first time he’d seen his picture on the front page of a major newspaper.

One good thing to come out of it all was that it was now cool to be a mutant or a superhero – both Registration Acts died in committee and public sentiment was mostly on their side. Nate had persuaded, cajoled, challenged and demanded the Acts be shredded. The Committee couldn’t give him what he wanted fast enough.

Brad picked up the stack of magazines Ray had left in his room. On the covers were photos of Patterson, Nate and Brad. He’d wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of D.C. but Patterson had insisted they grant the interviews and pose for the covers.

He’d never admit it but the _Time_ cover was Brad’s favorite. The three of them were dressed in tailored suits. The headline read _Super Security_. Beside each of them was a caption: _Mutant, Enhanced Marine, Magnanimous Titan._ At the moment the photo had been taken, Brad had pressed his hand to the small of Nate’s back. It couldn’t be seen in the photo but Nate’s expression was telling. Rather than his usual stoic, professional mask, Nate’s eyes were wide and luminous. His lips were parted, red and wet, as if he’d licked them just before the click of the shutter.

They were fucking celebrities and Brad hated every moment of it. Patterson, as always, reveled in it. Nate used it as a tool to get people to do what he wanted them to. Brad was just thankful they were all on the same side.

He tossed down the magazine and resumed his pacing. He needed to talk to Nate and there was no longer anything to get in the way. Nate had made a promise. Brad was just afraid it had been made in the heat of the moment; at the height of passion. There was every chance that even if Nate remembered it, he hadn’t meant it.

There was a knock at the door. Brad knew exactly who it was. He’d been half expecting Nate to seek him out. He’d been counting on it, in fact; he was too big a pussy to go in search of Nate himself.

Brad opened the door and felt the now-familiar tightening of his chest. Nate was standing in the corridor, holding his shield.

“I came home,” he said in greeting, holding up his shield. “I told you I’d be with it.”

Brad stepped aside to let Nate enter. “It’s a good thing, sir. If you’d come home _on_ your shield, Ferrando and McGraw wouldn’t have lived to the end of the day.”

Nate set his shield on the floor, propped against the end of the sofa. He moved to the table that held the stack of magazines. “You mean that, don’t you?” he asked.

Brad watched Nate skim through the magazines. A lump formed in his throat and he couldn’t answer Nate’s question.

His silence must have been answer enough because Nate didn’t press. Instead, he turned back to Brad, the copy of Newsweek in his hand. It was the only cover Brad had posed for alone. He’d defied Patterson and worn jeans and a black tee shirt instead of a suit. The photo was his head and torso only. The headline read _Iceman_. The caption said _Elemental Power_.

Brad hated it. It made him feel different and apart. His mutation made him different from everyone else and the level of his mutation separated him even from other mutants. It was the first time in years Brad felt like a freak and all he wanted to be right now was man.

“My favorite,” Nate said, gesturing toward the magazine before setting it back onto the table.

Brad didn’t know what to say. His heart hammered in his chest. Nate always seemed able to simply accept Brad just as he was.

Nate moved to the doorway that connected the sitting room and Brad’s bedroom. He leaned against the door frame. “Did I ever thank you for pulling my ass out of the fire?” he asked.

“No thanks necessary.” Brad waved his hand dismissively. He didn’t want Nate’s gratitude.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful.”

“Anytime, sir.” Brad stared hard at Nate, willing him to know he meant what he said.

“You know I’d do the same for you?” Nate’s question surprised him.

Brad _did_ know that. He realized he trusted Nate with his life. He just couldn’t answer because he couldn’t catch his breath, so Brad simply nodded.

Nate grinned. “When you first came sliding down from that skylight, I was so fucking pissed. I thought you’d come for me on your own and put yourself in an unacceptable amount of danger. I didn’t even stop to think about how I’d gotten free from the ceiling, I just started swinging the chains to try to buy you time to get the hell out of there.”

Brad felt his own mouth lift in a smile. “I admire the valiant way you kept battling, even when they had you completely secured.”

Nate’s expression grew serious. “When Ray swooped down and wrapped those metallic talons around my chains, I realized you’d brought the entire team. You’d overcome the unexpected by adapting, instead of responding impulsively and it was impressive.”

His own smile faltered. “Thank you, sir,” Brad murmured, feeling his face flush in both pleasure and embarrassment at Nate’s praise.

“We make a fucking spectacular team, don’t you think?”

Brad did. From designing a Humvee, to planning and executing missions, even down to their tag-team style of testifying and granting interviews; they were an effective and cohesive team. “Yes, we do.”

“I believe we can do this,” Nate said decisively.

“Do what, sir?” Brad’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“This,” Nate gestured between them. “We proved we can function appropriately despite being pretty fucking scared for one another’s safety, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.” He wondered where Nate was going with this. Brad almost didn’t dare hope.

“Good. Because I like it here. I enjoy being a part of the Avengers. I enjoy working for, and with, Bryan Patterson. I would hate to give it up in order to have this.” Nate gestured between them again.

Brad’s heart sank. “I wasn’t aware you were considering leaving us.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not. But I would, if it came down to a choice between being and Avenger and being with you.”

Brad stood rooted to his spot. He blinked several times, not quite believing his ears. He wasn’t sure he could trust what he thought Nate was saying. “You made me a promise,” Brad said, taking one hell of a leap of faith.

“I’ve made several. Which one are you referring to?”

“Next time.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Brad’s heart soared when Nate’s expression cleared and he smiled. “I’m here to make good on that promise. Are you ready to collect?”

Brad closed the distance between them in two long strides. He gripped Nate’s broad shoulders and tugged their bodies together. He expected Nate to surrender, to fall compliant to Brad’s dominance but that didn’t happen. Instead, Nate reached for Brad, stepping into him eagerly. He felt Nate’s arms wrap around him; Nate’s strong hands dug into the muscles of his back and pulled him close.

It felt like Nate wanted this; wanted _Brad_. His heart was already hammering in his chest and the thought that Nate might feel something, too left him weak-kneed. He lowered his head for a kiss and Nate rose up slightly to meet him. Brad should go slowly, show Nate he was more than a sloppy teenager just trying to come. The way Nate kissed him though, bled away much of Brad’s self-control.

Nate’s mouth on Brad’s was a fucking assault. The wet rub of Nate’s full lips against his own made Brad’s mouth tingle. He released Nate’s shoulders and slid his hands around Nate’s chest, down his back and the curve of his tight ass. Brad gripped Nate’s ass, feeling the flex of firm muscle as Nate shifted his weight against him. He pulled their hips together, pressing them tight and rubbing himself against the heat of Nate’s body.

Nate’s tongue swept along the seam of Brad’s mouth, and Brad parted his lips to welcomed Nate inside. Brad’s cock hung heavily between his legs, growing harder with each moment. He rubbed himself against Nate’s hip, shifting until their cocks were pressed together through the rough fabric of their jeans. He could feel Nate’s growing hardness pressed against his own and an answering rush of blood flooded his dick. Brad’s erection swelled rapidly and he was damn near light headed.

He licked into Nate’s mouth, caressing Nate’s tongue with his own. Brad felt like he was fucking starving and Nate was his only possible nourishment. He became aware of the sound of their harsh breathing, loud in the otherwise silent room. Brad’s chest heaved as he drew breath after breath in through his nose. He exhaled heavily, desperately, just so he could take another deep breath or risk losing consciousness. Nate’s breathing was equally strained, each exhalation burning over Brad’s cheek.

Brad’s cock was fully hard now and he pressed himself against Nate’s hip. He shifted again and grazed his erection against Nate’s where it pressed against his fly. Brad didn’t know what to do. He wanted to keep kissing Nate; he wanted to tear his mouth away and suck on Nate’s throat. He wanted to bite at Nate’s collarbone, rip his shirt off and bite at his nipples. Brad wanted to drop to his knees and suck Nate’s cock down his throat at the same time he wanted Nate on _his_ knees, sucking Brad’s cock. He was losing his fucking mind.

Nate broke the kiss, the loud smacking sound punched Brad low in the gut. He tightened his grip on Nate’s ass, afraid he’d pull away and break this exquisite contact. Nate stayed pressed tight to him, grinding his hard cock against Brad’s. Nate breathed, hot and heavy, against Brad’s neck, licking and nipping at the hollow of Brad’s throat until Brad shuddered in response.

“We need to get naked. I want to see and feel skin.” Nate’s voice was rough and breathless. “You said I could suck your cock next time. Did you mean it? Will you let me suck your cock?”

Brad’s dick twitched violently, threatening to punch through the denim of his jeans. Jesus Christ, was he fucking serious? Did Nate really think Brad was stupid enough to not want his cock sucked? Stupid enough to not want his cock sucked by _Nate_?

“Yeah. Fuck yeah,” Brad moaned, shocked at the desperate sound of his own voice.

Nate’s hot mouth closed over the lobe of Brad’s ear. He sucked on it and bit down just enough to make it sting. Brad’s knees buckled. He dug his fingers into Nate’s ass, searching for support. Nate tugged at the back of Brad’s tee shirt, dragging it upward over his shoulders. Reluctantly, Brad released his hold on Nate and lifted his arms. Nate stripped the shirt up over his head and arms, tossing it aside. Brad reached for Nate even as Nate tore off his own shirt and cast it away.

When they came together again, Brad gasped at the sensation of Nate’s hot skin pressed to his own. He ran his palms over the smooth skin and firm muscle of Nate’s chest. He watched in fascination as his own hand skimmed over Nate’s flesh. He ignored the way his hands trembled and hoped Nate didn’t notice.

The skin of Brad’s belly burned where it met Nate’s. Both of their chests heaved, their breathing nearly in sync. Brad gasped and sucked in his stomach reflexively when Nate’s fingers skimmed along his belly. He was working at the fly of Brad’s jeans, his usual competence replaced by arousal dulled reflexes. Brad felt a modicum of relief to know Nate was feeling this, too; he was just as affected as Brad was.

Brad needed to sit down. There was no fucking way he could stay on his feet once Nate’s lips were wrapped around his cock; no way in Hell. Brad shifted his weight and crowded Nate, leaning into him, pushing and guiding him backward toward the bed. Nate’s hands shifted to Brad’s ribcage and clutched him tightly. Brad skimmed his hands up Nate’s arms, feeling the corded muscles beneath the skin. Nate turned his face upward, piercing eyes watching Brad closely, studying him intently.

It worried Brad, not knowing just what Nate was searching for. Whatever it was, he knew Nate wouldn’t find it. Brad didn’t – couldn’t – show what he was feeling; how intensely he was feeling it.

They reached the side of the bed this time Nate shifted his weight and forced Brad to pivot. He felt the backs of his legs press against the mattress. Nate smiled up at him and Brad couldn’t breathe.

“I’m here with you,” Nate said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve wanted you like this for so long now.”

The fist in Brad’s chest, clenched painfully for so long, loosened. He hadn’t known he’d needed to hear those words, how the fuck had Nate known to say them?

Nate pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to Brad’s throat and his chest, even as he worked open the fly of Brad’s jeans. He pushed denim and cotton down over Brad’s hips and ass, letting it pool. Brad sat down heavily on the bed when Nate gave him a firm shove. He was helpless to resist Nate; he just fucking gave up trying.

Nate dropped to his knees between Brad’s open thighs. He dragged Brad’s jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them away. Brad didn’t know what the fuck to do. His cock ached, straining upward as if trying to reach Nate on its own. He wanted to bury his hands in Nate’s hair, shoving his head down so he could fuck Nate’s mouth. He wanted to rest back on his elbows and watch Nate’s swollen, red mouth stretch over his cock. He wanted to run his hands over the broad expanse of Nate’s back and shoulders, feel the muscles flex with each of Nate’s movements.  He wanted everything.

Brad fell back onto his elbows when Nate pressed a hand to the center of his chest and pushed. His thighs quivered as Nate ran calloused palms up their lengths. Brad held his breath when Nate looked up at him, slowly lowering his head over Brad’s straining cock. Nate’s green eyes were ablaze and they locked onto Brad’s. He didn’t know where to look; Nate’s eyes or the bow-shape of his upper lip as it stretched around the width and slid down the length of his dick.

Brad exhaled a shuddering breath. He dragged air into his lungs through parched lips. The feel of Nate’s hot, wet mouth gliding all the way down to the base of his cock made him groan. Brad clenched his teeth and fisted his hands, struggling for control. He’d fantasized about this; jerked off picturing this and his control was slipping away with each slide of Nate’s mouth. He watched Nate suck him and Nate watched Brad the entire time; even when he added his hand to Brad’s dick. Nate’s grip on Brad’s cock was firm, his hand rough. Brad watched Nate’s head lift and dip, hand moving with the same timing. He felt it when Nate sucked hard, the suction exquisite as it enveloped Brad’s entire dick only to recede again, frustratingly. Brad was almost afraid none of this wasn’t real. He’d wanted this for so long, and he wasn’t used to getting what he wanted.

He struggled not to flex his hips, not to thrust into Nate’s mouth uncontrollably. Brad clenched his jaw and willed himself to stay still. The sight of Nate moving over his cock, sucking it down between his perfectly shaped lips, was driving Brad to madness. He groaned when Nate flicked his tongue into the weeping slit. He unleashed a string of swear words he wasn’t sure meant anything when Nate dragged the flat of his tongue along the fat vein on the underside.

It was Brad’s greatest fantasy come true and he was sure that, at any moment, it would prove to be a dream. Nate hummed around his dick and Brad couldn’t help it; he snapped his hips upward sharply. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, fisting his hands in the bedclothes.

Nate seemed unfazed. His mouth worked down Brad’s cock in tandem with his fist. Each time Brad thrust upward, Nate took it. He sucked at the head of Brad’s erection just before he licked his way down the length. Brad fucked himself in and out of Nate’s mouth, even as Nate moved his spare hand up to cradle Brad’s sac.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Brad whispered harshly. His hips moved rhythmically and Nate moved up and down his length in time. He jerked restlessly as Nate caressed his balls, squeezing and tugging and rolling them, torturing Brad right into insanity.

Without warning, Brad’s orgasm began to roll down his spine and through his pelvis. He was better than this, he should be able to last longer. He should have at least felt it building before now. Christ, but Nate shattered his fucking self-control.

“Nate, I’m close,” he said, his own voice rough and unrecognizable. He placed on hand gently on the back of Nate’s head to warn him or still him or – fuck, Brad wasn’t even sure.

Nate pulled off, wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were luminous and his cheeks were flushed. His mouth looked bruised and fucked. Brad was still stunned that he’d been the one to get Nate looking that way. His chest heaved with every breath and he realized suddenly, Nate was breathing just as hard.

Brad didn’t know what he’d finally done right in his life that he got have Nate this way. He got to see Nate aroused and wanting and realized he wanted to be the only one to see him that way. Brad was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful wave of possessiveness. He never felt like this; Brad never felt the need to claim and mark _his_ territory. This was unfamiliar ground for him. Still, he knew what he had to do.

Brad lunged up from the bed. He gripped Nate’s shoulders and shifted his own weight. Pressing Nate face down into the bed, Brad slid on top of him. He used the length of his body to pin Nate, to hold him in place. Brad pressed a single, open-mouth kiss to the back of Nate’s neck. Beneath him, Nate shuddered. Brad smiled against the sweaty hair at the base of Nate’s skull.

Nate relaxed under him. That was when Brad sank his teeth into the flesh of Nate’s neck, hard enough to leave marks. He was done fucking around. Nate was his.

“Ugh,” Nate grunted as Brad bit him. He arched upward and Brad pressed down into him, both pinning him and rubbing against him.

Brad slid his cock against the cleft of Nate’s denim clad ass. The fabric was rough against his sensitized erection and it hurt in a way that sent electricity sparking through Brad’s body; it felt fucking fantastic. He slid his hands up the length of Nate’s naked back, feeling the sweat starting to slick his smooth skin. Brad bit down on Nate’s shoulder and smiled when he groaned into the bedclothes.

Nate writhed beneath him. He pressed his ass upward into Brad’s cock and arched his back so they were skin-to-skin. Brad dragged the flat of his tongue along Nate’s spine, smiling at the sound of his harsh breathing in response. Brad slid his hands along Nate’s arms and linked their fingers, gripping tightly. He selected an unblemished patch of flesh on Nate’s shoulder blade and sucked it into his mouth. Brad sank his teeth into that flesh, sucking and biting and fucking _marking_ Nate as his.

He used his hips to press Nate firmly into the bed, keeping him from tossing them both to the floor as he thrashed beneath Brad’s restraining body. Nate’s eyes were open but glazed, focused only on the sensations Brad was giving him.  Brad kept his hands entwined with Nate’s as he slid lower still. He moved to Nate’s other side, just over his straining ribcage. Pressing his lips to the flushed skin, Brad sucked hard at Nate’s side. He felt the heat of Nate’s blood rush to the surface of his skin and he ran his tongue over the swelling as it formed.

“Fuck.” Brad thought he heard Nate whisper, as he released the abused flesh. He admired the dark red bruise as it slowly began to purple.

Nate made a sound that could have been a protest when Brad released his hands. He didn’t give Nate time to be disappointed, though. Brad reached beneath Nate’s body and tore open the fly of jeans. He tugged them down over Nate’s hips, knowing he was rough in his haste but unable to care.

Brad threw aside the last barrier of clothing and sat back to admire the firm swell of Nate’s ass. He skimmed his palms admiringly over Nate’s round ass cheeks. He grinned when Nate pressed his hips upward, pushing his ass more firmly into Brad’s hands.

Lowering his head, Brad dragged his tongue along the base of Nate’s spine. Nate pressed his forehead into the bedclothes and gripped them tightly in his clenched fists. He muttered nonsense as Brad licked at the crease of his ass. Brad pressed his open mouth to one of Nate’s ass cheeks. He sucked on the firm flesh, feeling it fill with the warmth of collecting blood. Nate gasped when Brad let the skin slide from beneath his teeth. He watched it color, a distinct mark of possession growing more obvious on Nate’s ass.

Brad gripped Nate’s ass cheeks firmly in both hands. He spread them wide apart, baring Nate. He blew a breath of air across Nate’s tightly clenching hole and watched it tighten further and relax.

“Brad?” Nate asked, sounding puzzled. He lifted his head slightly and looked at Brad over his shoulder. The sight was fucking debauched and the hottest thing Brad had ever seen.

He pressed his face to the cleft of Nate’s ass and dragged the flat of his tongue along Nate’s hole. Nate’s response was intense and caught Brad off guard.

“Christ, fuck, Brad … what,” Nate sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath. Brad held him still but it was as though Nate couldn’t decide if he wanted to crawl away or push back into Brad’s mouth. “My god … what the … fuck …”

Brad licked at the dimples at the top of Nate’s ass. Something in Nate’s tone had him on high alert. “Don’t you like it?”

“I don’t … I didn’t … what … fuck, yes, I like it.”

Brad dragged the flat of his tongue along Nate’s opening. He swept back and pressed the firm tip to Nate’s hole. Nate tasted tangy and musky and Brad’s mouth watered. Nate was writhing violently and Brad held him steady, using his thumbs to open Nate so he could slide his tongue inside.

Nate’s body jerked and shuddered, he let out a strangled cry when Brad licked into the heat of his body. He tasted strong and masculine, just like Brad had thought he would. Holding him open and lifting Nate’s hips slightly, Brad licked lower, dragging his tongue from Nate’s heavy ball sac to the base of his spine. Nate choked out a low groan.

Brad licked around Nate’s hole, teasing it, enjoying the sound of Nate’s ragged breathing. He pushed his tongue inside of Nate, past the strong muscle. He swirled his tongue, tasting all of Nate he could reach. Little by little, Nate relaxed around Brad. His hips flexed rhythmically as he pushed back against Brad’s mouth and forward against the mattress.

Brad came onto his knees and slid the length of his body along Nate’s. The sweat-slick skin glided easily and Nate felt as though he was on fire. Brad dragged the flat of his tongue along the entire length of Nate’s spine, tasting his sweat and his skin. He reached Nate’s neck and bit down hard on the juncture of his shoulder. Nate’s spine curved, his head coming back to rest against Brad’s shoulder. His sex flush covered his face, his elegant throat and muscular chest. Brad licked over Nate’s Adam’s apple.

“Fuck, Brad, please,” Nate pleaded in a harsh whisper.

Brad covered Nate’s hands with his own and twined their fingers. “What? What do you need?” he asked against the shell of Nate’s ear, licking around the delicate structure and sweeping inside.

Nate shuddered violently against Brad. “Please fuck me.”

It was a simple request but the way Nate looked, the utter devastation in his voice, ensured Brad couldn’t have refused; even if he’d wanted to. “Yeah. Yeah, I wanna fuck you.” Brad thought he might have slurred his own words.

Nate turned his face toward Brad’s and suddenly they were kissing. The angle was awkward and Nate’s loss of coordination made it off center and sloppy wet. It was all tongue, their lips hardly touched. Brad lapped at Nate’s tongue, loving the  wet glide. He ground his hips downward into Nate’s ass, rubbing his cock against the cleft.

Brad sat up and reached for his bedside table. He took out the new bottle and a foil packet. His hands shook as he struggled to open the bottle. Finally, he poured the slick over his fingers and reached for Nate’s ass again. His first finger slid in easily, dragging a low moan from Nate’s throat, then pushed a second finger as well, running his free hand along Nate’s lower back, soothing him and grounding himself.

Nate rocked back against Brad. He pushed hard, as if trying to get more of Brad’s hand inside. Impatiently, Brad withdrew his fingers and Nate made a frustrated sound. Opening the condom packet, Brad managed to get the latex rolled down his erection. Just the slick touch of his own fingers had his hips bucking as he felt damn near close to coming. He doused his sheathed cock in more lube and reached for Nate’s hips.

Brad helped Nate come to his knees, watched him spread his thighs wider and let his head drop to hang limply between his shoulders. Just the sight was fucking hot, but Brad felt like something was missing; like he needed more. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around Nate’s torso. He sat back on his own heels and pulled Nate’s body with him. They knelt there; Nate in the cradle of Brad’s legs, Brad’s arms wrapped tightly around Nate’s heaving chest. Nate turned his face into Brad’s neck and breathed heavily against him.

“You feel so good wrapped all around me,” Nate whispered. Brad wondered if he knew he’d spoken. “You smell so fucking good.”

Brad pressed a kiss to Nate’s forehead. With one hand he reached between their bodies and took hold of himself. He lined himself up with Nate hole. With one arm wrapped around Nate’s chest, his other hand gripping at and guiding Nate’s hip, Brad thrust his hips upward. At the same time, he dragged Nate down and back, impaling him on Brad’s cock.

Nate cried out roughly. He brought his hands up to clutch desperately at Brad’s arm across his chest. Brad felt Nate’s body envelope him fully. His cock was buried in Nate’s tight heat, squeezed by those inner muscles. Nate’s back was firm as it pressed against Brad’s chest. Sweat made them slip and slide against each other. The scent was insane; Nate, his shampoo, his cologne, his sweat and his sex combined and made Brad’s balls ache. He buried his face in the hair at the back of Nate’s neck and struggled for control over his breathing and his movements.

Both of Nate’s arms covered Brad’s where they were wrapped around Nate’s chest.

“You okay?” Brad asked against the back of Nate’s head. “You good with this?”

“Yeah,” Nate whispered in reply. “Fuck yeah.

Brad pulled his hips back slightly, feeling the heat of Nate’s body and the tight clench of his muscles slide along the length of his dick. He pulled out almost all of the way, feeling the flex of Nate’s muscles as he rose up on his knees, looking to match Brad’s rhythm.

He pushed in at the same time he pulled Nate down onto his lap. He felt Nate push himself backward, sinking onto Brad’s erection and taking him all the way to the hilt. Brad’s brain exploded at the sensation, electrical shocks shooting through his system and zinging down the length of his spine. Again he pulled back and Nate rose up. Together, Brad fucked forward and Nate sank down. Their hips met in a lewd slap of flesh.

Brad groaned each time he fucked himself into Nate’s heat. He listened to each of Nate’s guttural moans. He held tight to Nate’s body as he fucked up into him. Brad found a fast and brutal rhythm. He pistoned his hips hard and fast, slamming himself in and out of Nate’s body. Nate clung to him, fucking back against him, never missing a thrust.

He felt hot breath ghost along his throat. Brad opened his eyes to see that Nate had turned and was pressing his face to the sweaty skin of Brad’s neck. He could feel Nate’s ragged breathing. He could just hear the litany of curses Nate chanted, most likely unaware of what he was saying.

Blindly, Brad searched around the bed for the discarded bottle of lube. Clumsily, he pressed it into Nate’s palm. “Lube my hand,” he said in a low voice through grit teeth. He was struggling to maintain his rhythm and not just shove Nate into the mattress and pound into his ass.

It was messy but Nate managed to get some lube into Brad’s palm. Brad wrapped his slick hand around Nate’s hard cock. Brad groaned when Nate’s body clenched around him in response. Nate choked out a broken cry and his movements against Brad faltered.

“Are you close?” Brad gasped.

“Yes,” Nate answered in what almost sounded like a sob.

“Can you come like this?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I’m close,” Nate said through clenched teeth.

Brad jacked Nate’s slick, hard cock as he slowly fucked his ass. He moved his hips slowly, circling them slightly, giving Nate different depths and angles. He stroked Nate’s cock from root to tip, his hand a blur and he tried to drag the orgasm from him.

Nate’s body clamped down hard on Brad’s cock. He’d never felt anything so good. His balls ached and began to rise. His climax started a slow burn in the base of his spine and began to role its way through his pelvis.

“Are you gonna come?” he asked Nate. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Nate replied breathlessly, his body taut like a bow string and still pressed tightly against Brad’s. “Don’t stop,” he pleased hoarsely. “Please don’t fucking stop.”

Brad didn’t stop. He watched and listened as his own hand stroked Nate’s erection. He watched the dusky, reddened head disappear into his own fist then reemerge. His hand moved so quickly it was almost a blur. The lube made a slick, wet sound in his own palm and against Nate’s cock. He pulsed his own hips against Nate’s ass, sliding his cock in and out incrementally. All the while, Brad watched Nate’s face, waiting for the look of supreme satisfaction to suffuse his expression as he came in Brad’s hand.

Nate’s breath caught and his body stopped moving against Brad’s. For several, interminable seconds he didn’t breathe and he didn’t move. Brad kept stroking his cock, watching and waiting impatiently.

“Fuck, Brad, I’m coming,” Nate shouted and his entire body began to tremble.

Brad kept stroking and kept Nate pressed tight to his own body. He rode out the waves of Nate’s climax with him, feeling Nate’s muscles convulse and spasm around his cock. Hot, wet jets of come covered Brad’s hand, some landing on Nate’s belly, some landing on his thighs. Nate groaned loudly, sucking in each breath through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, Nate went limp. Brad held his slumped body close to his own, leaving his cock buried deep inside. He’d done this. Brad had been the one to fuck Nate senseless. He’d been the one to make him come so hard he hung limply in Brad’s arms afterward.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to Nate’s temple.

“Yeah. I just have to catch my breath.”

“Take your time,” Brad soothed, slowly starting to rock his hips against Nate’s ass again.

“I want you to come,” Nate breathed, his head resting against Brad’s shoulder. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

Nate was going to destroy Brad. He was so fucking genuine, so damn responsive. He seemed to see right into Brad and seemed able to read him like a book. It was like he knew just what Brad needed and wanted. No one had ever been able to do that.

Brad wrapped his arms around Nate and pulled him in close, fucking Nate in an easy rhythm.  It felt so god damned good, his orgasm began to quickly build inside of him again.

“You feel so amazing,” he murmured, closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of Nate surrounding him. “Your ass is so hot and so tight around my cock. Just wanna fuck you ‘til I come.” It was nonsense, but Brad didn’t fucking care anymore.

His orgasm slammed into him with the force of a superhuman punch. The muscles in his lower belly clenched. Jolts of electricity rolled up his spine and sparks lit behind his closed eyelids. He lost all rhythm and slammed his hips against Nate’s ass with mindless abandon. His balls tucked tight against his body and his cock jerked over and over again with each pulse of come.

Brad was only barely aware of Nate making soothing and sympathetic sounds and he rode out the climax with him.

As his orgasm receded, Brad struggled to regain his breath. He also struggled to regain his composure. He couldn’t ever remember losing it quite like that before.

Slowly, Nate rose up from Brad’s lap. They both hissed when Brad’s soft dick slid out of Nate’s body. Brad reached to remove the condom and somewhere, Nate was there pushing his hands away.

“Easy,” Nate soothed. “I’ve got it.”

When Nate left to dispose of the latex, Brad collapsed down onto his elbows. He tried to hold himself up, but his arms quivered, threatening to give out.

Suddenly, Nate was there again. He climbed onto the bed, dragging his body the length of Brad’s. He settled down over Brad, watching him closely. What the fuck could he see?

Brad closed his eyes when Nate lowered his head to kiss him. It was warm and affectionate. It was devoid of their earlier desperation and passion, but it still felt like it _meant_ something.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Nate said when he broke the kiss. He pressed a thumb between Brad’s brows, smoothing out the frown. “But I suspect you’re over-thinking things.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed. It’s like Nate knew what was going on in his head. “How do you know I’m thinking about anything? My mind tends to go blank after spectacular sex.”

“I know when you’re feeling something because I look for it,” Nate answered. “It’s there. It’s always been there. I just don’t think anyone’s bothered to look for it before.”

Brad’s hearted thundered. He wondered if Nate could feel it, pressed this close. “And you look for it?”

“I look for it because it matters.”

Brad swallowed hard. Was Nate saying that Brad mattered to him?

“So, we’re going to make this work, right?” Nate asked, brows rising as if to challenge Brad to argue. “We work together, as part of a team. After the missions, we do this; we come home and take care of each other. Give and get what we each need.”

“Is that what you want?” Brad asked, stalling.

“Yes, it is.”

“So do I.” It was all Brad could manage for now. " _Aut cum scuto, aut in scuto_ ," he said, letting Nate know he understood.

“ _Semper cum scuto, semper fidelis_ ,” Nate said, watching Brad intently.

“ _Semper cum scuto, semper fidelis_?” Brad repeated, making it a question.

“Always with the shield, always faithful,” Nate promised.

**Author's Note:**

> First readers who gave me valuable early encouragement:  
> devilc, who is responsible for the casting of U.S. Agent so she gets all the credit for that bit of genius.  
> planejane, who knows nothing about comic books but loves Brad and Nate.  
> cala_jane read the sex scenes paragraph by paragraph and cheered me on.
> 
> Ficfinishing on Livejournal made sure the action sequences got written by chearleading when it was needed.
> 
> And finally, mydocuments, who turned out to be a hardcore Marvel fan, was the perfect beta for the job. It's a better fic because she told me what I needed to hear, not just what I wanted to hear. She managed to do this beta while in med school, moving, staring a new job and taking a huge exam.


End file.
